Where Else But Greece?
by Lambkinz
Summary: SLASH. One man's positive that love's not all it's cracked up to be. One man's resolute that there're no such things as fairytales. But boy, life can really throw you some interesting curve balls when you're being spied on by gods. Sinbad/Dimitri
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _This Non/Disney crossover fic is an entry in a youtube contest hosted by Czarownicykot, a video editor who does eerily convincing crossover work that I've become hopelessly addicted to. I can't believe it took me so long to realize that there was a community of folks who did this. Anyway, since I agree that there is a shamefully small amount of cartoon movie crossovers around here, I decided to toss in my own. And oh yes, it's SLASH. Mostly I hope you enjoy it, but if you don't...well a sick, cackling part of me hopes it just offends you. This will be a multi-chapter endeavor (I think it's fairly obvious by how it reads that this is a stage-setting chapter) that I desperately hope to finish by the contest deadline. Now, without futher ado, as I yet fear threats of being lured into the woods and held captive, here is my contribution:_ **Where Else But Greece?**

_Chapter One_

The winds of the dead realm Tartarus blew hot and empty around a figure entering the desert. She was beautiful, had a powerful air about her—perhaps a goddess, or else in grave danger for daring to set foot in the very birthplace of chaos. Her short golden locks fell in tight curls to her chin, her eyes honey-colored and warm, her skin olive toned and her strong feminine figure dressed in a small white robe that exposed her graceful limbs as she strode unburdened by the sand-heavy wind. After a time she paused, the sand roiling up to her knees, and gazed across the realm with a pensive sigh. A brief wave of her hand and the environment suddenly changed. Darkness swelled up and swallowed her, leaving only far off pinpoints of light and one swirling orb in the middle of the new plane.

The woman made her way to the globe that sat before her. Within was the world below; an access point through which an inhabitant of Tartarus might manipulate the world of men, or if not that then a window from which to view it. It appeared that it was acting as just that at the moment. She peered deeper into the globe through the atmospheric mists and frowned at what she saw within. A rambunctious sailor aboard his ship, one that many knew by name, and by now not merely mortals. A pair of yellow eyes opened in the blackness behind her, but she was not aware until a voice accompanied them.

"Harmonia," came a single, sinuously spoken word.

The woman jerked away with a hand on her chest, staring into the darkness from where the voice had risen and bristling in indignation. Slowly the speaking figure materialized. Pale skin and dark hair framed a sinister face that emerged from the shadows to smirk with muted aggravation at the intruder.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you how rude it is to stop in uninvited?" the dark figure pressed.

Harmonia recovered quickly, raising her chin and folding her arms. "Of all the gods and goddesses to say that, Eris, it must be the most hypocritical coming from you."

Eris laid her arms over her globe and cocked her head in mock innocence. "When have you ever known me to make a burden of myself, _dear_ sister?"

"Whenever indeed. I can think of a certain someone's wedding who you rather spectacularly destroyed, for one."

Before Harmonia's sentence was finished Eris was already sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes. "Oh, please. Not this again. You throw one little apple of discord into the fruit bowl and suddenly you're the celestial killjoy for all of eternity."

"Yes, well it only started the Trojan War." Harmonia huffed, leaning forward. "Thetis won't be obliged to forgive you any time soon."

Eris's eyes dulled. "Is the little nymph still sore? Why doesn't she send her pathetic mortal husband to come and defend her honor, then?" she circled her globe, fingers tapping playfully at the edges. "It was all in good fun. It isn't my fault that you Olympians are all so uptight."

Harmonia huffed, shaking her head. "Oh, it wasn't in fun and you know it. You only did it because you were put off that they didn't want the world renowned maker of mischief mucking about at their ceremony. Which you managed to do anyway—which you _always_ manage to do anyway—and which is rather the point of my coming here."

"Oh?" Eris inquired uninterestedly as she leaned back over her globe to examine her nails. "Do tell. I love a good tantrum. And no one throws a better tantrum than a deity."

Harmonia let out a breath and gestured to the globe. "Eris, what you have done is unacceptable. Stealing the Book of Peace? Conspiring to overthrow mankind? Revealing yourself to all of Syracuse, and for what? To spite one powerless mortal man? It's nonsense, Eris. You may think you've escaped all scrutiny hiding in the dregs of Tartarus, but the gods are still watching you, sister, and they are displeased. They have sent me here to warn you that should this type of conduct continue, they will be forced to—"

"Forced to what?" Eris laughed, melting away into thin air.

Harmonia blinked, looking around to try and relocate her host. The dark goddess reappeared behind her, hands on her shoulders suddenly. Harmonia jumped, glaring at Eris in irritation.

"Oh, Harmonia." Eris sighed. "Poor, silly, _boring_ Harmonia. …You act as though you've never toyed with a mortal before."

Harmonia pulled away from her touch stonily. "Perhaps I have. But at least I don't swoop in from my perch to shamelessly cut them down to their knees at every opportunity." She moved closer to the globe, glancing back over her shoulder with a frown. "And I am _not_ boring."

"Don't make me laugh." Eris didn't move to follow. "You make a stick in the mud look like the life of the party. I wouldn't be surprised if they sent you here just to get away from you and your nagging. …But it's not entirely your fault. Most of you are about as interesting as uncarved marble…at least our dear earthly humans are willing to liven things up a bit."

Harmonia snorted, turning back to the vision of the sailor in the globe. "_Are_ they willing, I wonder?"

Eris's features darkened behind the other goddess's back, her body ghosting over to the other side of the globe in a single serpentine movement.

Harmonia looked up. "How long have you been watching him, Eris? Since you last parted? Is that how long you've been seething over your little defeat?"

Glowering, Eris leaned over the image of the ship with her fingers outstretched over it like claws. "Sinbad may have gotten his little book of fairytales back, but that doesn't mean he's won."

"How's that?"

Eris grinned predatorily, her fingers splaying around the ship to reveal it between them once more. "Just look at him, Harmonia."

Harmonia gave a wary glance toward the other goddess before peering into the open channel at the scene below. The sun was setting, the ship sailing towards a harbor in the distance, and the only crew member above deck was its captain. He sat with his back against the ship's mast with a faintly forlorn face. Every now and then his mastiff would whine, seeking attention, and he would half-heartedly pat its head. "What of him?"

Eris chuckled to herself. "Can't you see it? He's _miserable_."

"But why?" Harmonia turned back to gaze at him. "He got everything he wanted, did he not?"

"Yes, he did." Eris smiled, turning and leaning her back along the globe before tossing a look over her shoulder. "And she left him."

Harmonia looked back down at the man before her and her features softened. "And that constitutes a victory on your part?"

"No. But it is delicious irony, isn't it?" she replied merrily. "He pinned his hopes on her leaving the dull guy for a life of adventure. He just didn't think that the dull guy would end up being him. It was the sea she was in love with. The adventure. The very thing he was ready to give up in exchange for a life of peaceful…retirement."

Harmonia studied Sinbad's features sadly. In a moment when he perceived himself to be unwatched, he didn't carry himself with the haughty swagger and bluster she knew him to usually show. Instead he now appeared stiff and uncharacteristically sober. Age that he had not yet reached somehow showed on him. "I don't see where there's any room to gloat. Do you feel no remorse?"

"You think _I_ am somehow responsible?" Eris put a hand to her chest incredulously. "Hey, all _I_ did was use him to get to Proteus. I could have cared less about his little romance. In fact if it weren't for me he never would have met the supposed love of his life. And what is it they say? It's better to have loved and lost?"

"If his 'little romance' doesn't concern you then why do you make mention of it as if it does?" Harmonia looked up, her face still somber.

"Alright, so maybe I am just a _tad_ vengeful." Eris slithered to Harmonia's side to peer down into the globe. "And I suppose I glean just a small sliver of satisfaction in knowing that neither of us ended up with what we wanted."

"That's cruel, Eris." Harmonia disapproved.

"Don't worry yourself, Harmonia." Eris waved a hand. "With a heart as black as his I can't see him thinking about this for more than a couple of weeks. He'll be back to the brothels in no time. Boys will be boys, after all."

Harmonia scoffed, folding her arms. "Do you believe so little of everyone? Love is grossly chaotic. I should think you would have quite enjoyed the presence of it—rejoiced, even, at a tumultuous love like theirs."

"Mm, perhaps you have a point." Eris said flippantly as she smiled down at Sinbad's unhappy countenance. "But that's all assuming I believe a man like him is truly capable of love."

Harmonia shook her head, weary of arguing. "Well you've always been a poor judge of character."

"Just how committed to that belief are you?" Eris's smile turned into a devious grin. "Enough to make things…interesting?"

"What are you talking about?" Harmonia turned suspiciously.

Eris drew closer. "A game."

The blonde goddess curled a lip. "I won't have any of your games, Eris."

Eris's grin dropped and she pulled back with a look of exasperation. "Fine, fine. Have it your way then." She leaned her chin into a palm, resting her elbow on the globe. "You certainly aren't doing anything for that buzzkill reputation of yours."

Harmonia's brow furrowed and she straightened up. "Well that's only your opinion."

"Oh, I'm sure it is." Eris dismissed.

"I'm _not_ boring. I'm sensible. You're hardly trustworthy, and even an inbred mortal pig could see that playing your games is a bad idea." She turned to leave, about to utter a parting reminder of her warning when Eris interrupted her.

"Well, if you don't think you're my intellectual match, then…"

Harmonia stiffened, swiveling around to glare at Eris, who was examining her nails casually again. As soon as she caught Harmonia's anger she smiled sweetly.

Harmonia sighed gruffly, tightly crossing her arms over her chest and planting herself in a stance. "Alright then. I'll humor you. Suppose that I didn't know what a cheat you are. Suppose I were infinitely foolish enough to agree to some ludicrous game. What would be the terms?"

Eris rose up exuberantly, stroking the globe with a hand. "It would be simple, really. You think that Sinbad is the loving sort, and I disagree. So why don't you prove me wrong?"

"And just how would I do that?"

Eris circled Harmonia as she rubbed her chin in thought. "Make him fall in love." She looked back to the image of the ship as night began to fall.

"In love?"

"Isn't that the easiest way to make your point?

"Preposterous!" Harmonia huffed, waving her hands. "God or no, I don't have the power to force a mortal to love. Such things take…_time_, circumstance, you would have to—"

"Yes, and as a god you can contrive any circumstance you choose. Isn't that to beauty of it? As for time, I'll give you plenty. You'll have three months."

"Three months?" Harmonia balked. "Whoever falls in love in three months?"

"I can't give you eternity, can I? Besides, that's plenty of time considering the prospect of love at first sight."

Harmonia sighed and nodded. "And?"

Eris tapped her fingers together under her chin. "You'll have three months to make Sinbad fall in love. And it has to be with a mortal. No using your feminine wiles on him for yourself. That would just be too easy now, wouldn't it?"

"And if I succeed? …Hypothetically of course."

Eris paused. "Why, then you have the knowledge that you were right, don't you?"

Harmonia narrowed her eyes. "Sorry. I'm afraid pride just isn't good enough."

"Oh, alright…" Eris brushed away her weightless, flowing hair and released a breath. "If you succeed, I, Eris, will hereby promise never to tamper in the realm of mortals again."

"You'll what?" Harmonia was at a momentary loss for words. She masked her shock with an air of distrust. "It sounds too good to be true."

"Come now…surely you want the glory of being the one who stopped that meddling Eris from constantly trying to plunge the world into chaos. Tell me something. How effective did the others suppose your warning would be, hm? Wouldn't you show them all when you returned with the ability to boast that you'd put a stop to my antics once and for all? I'm sure that would raise your status by a few points."

Harmonia bit her inner cheek. On the one hand this was a fool's bet. Eris was far too treacherous. On the other, to be rid of Eris's pesky interferences with her mission of peace and unity was too enticing an offer to pass up. _If_ she could be trusted, that was. "…And what if I don't succeed?"

Eris's face quickly intensified in its deviousness. "Hmm, why I hadn't even thought of that."

"Out with it. What is it you want?"

"Well, if I have to think up something on the spot…" Eris looked up. "Oh, let's say…an invite to the next little shindig you deities are throwing."

Harmonia froze. "But that's…!"

Eris grinned again. "Oh, that's right! Why Harmonia, that's _your_ wedding, isn't it? How perfectly coincidental…"

So _that_ was why the bleeding harpy had granted a three month timeframe. She knew all along that in such time Harmonia would be wedding Cadmus. "That's absurd! Out of the question! I would never allow you to—"

"I think it's a very reasonable offer considering the snub I got from Thetis. Wouldn't you agree?" Eris sneered. "If _I_ win, all I'm asking for is the basic courtesy of an invite…and if _you_ win, you want to rob me of my only pastime in this existence altogether. Do you really think the scales are balanced against _you_ on this one?"

Harmonia thought for a long time, tapping her nails against her arm worriedly. It was true. She had much less to lose. Although a ruined wedding didn't sound much better to her than dealing with Eris's errant behavior in the future. Still, it was undeniable that putting a stop to it once and for all would bode well for her in terms of esteem. Poor hapless mortals would likely fare better as well. Surely her husband-to-be would agree…wouldn't he? She slackened her arms and eyed the other goddess. "There's just one problem with your rules, Eris."

"Oh?"

Harmonia's eyes grazed Sinbad's ship. "How exactly do I prove that he's in love? I suspect you don't believe the man's words, so I'm well aware that making him say it wouldn't be enough for you."

Eris's eyes lidded and she sighed, cocking her head. "Alright, alright. Then let's agree on what can be called proof, shall we?" she leaned down, twirling her finger into the mists above the ship. "Clearly it isn't words, as we've established. And perhaps not certain…carnal actions." Eris winked.

Harmonia wrinkled her nose in disdain. "Certainly not."

"So then it can only be one thing."

"And what one thing is that?"

"A show of ultimate personal sacrifice, of course." Eris shrugged. "An act that proves he's willing to lose something important to him in order to please the one he loves…proof that this person, whoever they are, means more to him than any other thing in his world."

"That's strangely poetic coming from a renowned sadist." Harmonia muttered.

"I've spent several lifetimes over watching silly little mortals love. I'd have to be an idiot not to have picked up a convincing line or two." Eris smiled evilly. "So then. Do we have a deal?"

Harmonia looked down as Eris stretched out a hand. "Your word that you'll hold to your end of the bargain?"

"Of course." Eris crossed her heart, still grinning.

Harmonia paused to gather her thoughts. Surely Eris had tricks up her sleeve. Loopholes to exploit, cheats to partake in, tricks to perform. It was only a matter, then, of getting just as dirty. Harmonia crossed her heart as well and lay her hand in Eris's, shaking once to seal the deal. "Very well then. Three months."

Eris leered competitively. "Three months it is."


	2. Chapter 2

LET THE MOST EYE-GOUGINGLY LONG CHAPTER BEGIN!

* * *

_Chapter Two_

"I-I-I'm sorry, I'm still just not getting it." The brunette man stammered as he held out a freshly unfolded map. "Could you point to it again?"

"Yes, yes, of course. It is here. You see? Yes?" a finger placed itself into the middle of the outstretched map. The finger belonged to a short Greek fellow who had introduced himself as Alexei. He was middle-aged, round, bearded, and had an overly friendly air about him that bordered on hostility in its enthusiasm. "You have missed it only by a block, my friend. You see?"

"Ahhh, I think I see now." The brown-haired young man nodded fervently, leaning into his map with narrowed eyes. "Boy, you're really helpful. Would you believe it? I just got to this country a day ago and I'm completely lost. I just don't know what to do with myself!" he laughed, and Alexei laughed with him. The short, robust man clapped him on the shoulder.

"I see. You are tourist then, my friend?" Alexei asked.

"Yep, yep, you ah…you got me. Haven't even figured out how to read the maps yet." The young man adjusted the hat on his head and sighed.

"You will learn, you will learn." The older man dismissed.

"Gosh, I sure hope so. Wouldn't do to spend the whole week wandering around like this. I spent a lot of money on this trip. But hey, what are inheritances for, right?" he elbowed Alexei, who laughed heartily.

"You are right, you are right." He said.

"Now, let me just…" the brunette leaned forward a bit more and fumbled his map, and in his ensuing attempt to reclaim it in his hands, dropped several items out of his coat pockets. "Oh, darn! Silly me. Clumsiest guy in the world. Claude the clod, that's what they called me in school." He bent down to pick up his things, the other man following.

"Here, let me help you friend." Alexei offered. The brunette was still gathering his things up as Alexei's hand stealthily reached into the tourist's back pants pocket, lifting away the wallet that sat within into a sleeve.

"I guess I better watch what I'm doing. Well, thanks for your help Alexei. I definitely know where I'm going now. Nice meeting you." The young man stood, tipping his hat and stuffing his things back into his coat.

"Excellent. I wish you luck then, boy." Alexei was suddenly quick to move off, and the tourist waved at his retreating back obliviously. As soon as he was out of sight, however, the young "tourist" expertly folded his map and tucked it under and arm as he pulled out a different wallet from his front pocket. He opened it up and licked a thumb before pawing through the bills inside.

"Easiest forty drachma I ever made." Smirked Dimitri. Little Alexei was in for a surprise when he found out that not only was his newly stolen rich tourist's wallet empty, but that his own wallet had mysteriously vanished from his inside pocket as well. Nothing ended the day quite like conning a conman. He tucked the thief's wallet back into his coat pocket and continued on his way. Not a bad day's work, but even still, he felt…restless.

Dimitri had always dreamed of visiting places like Athens when he was younger, but now that he was actually here he was disappointed to learn that it felt like every other place he'd ever been to. There were thieves in the streets, suckers to be swindled, crying children, crowded markets—the only real unique feature he found Greece to behold was its towering ruins. Then again, depending on how flexible your definition of ruins was, he'd experienced plenty of those too. At the very least this place wasn't so miserably cold. All in all he was glad that he had put all things Russian permanently behind him, and he intended to never return to that war torn land of perpetual winter. There was nothing for him there. There never had been. Although he had to say, he hadn't exactly expected to be just as penniless outside of Mother Russia as he had been within her borders. In fact there was a time when he was quite positive he'd be rich. He snorted to himself and shook his head, continuing on down the street.

Maybe he should have taken the money Anya offered him. At the moment, in his shock and hurt, all he could say to her was that she shouldn't worry about it, that she couldn't pay him enough to stay anyway and that he was happy to leave. It was a lie of course, but it wasn't as if he expected her to change her mind about them. He should have known that he wasn't what she really wanted, as that had in fact always been the case. She had told him what she wanted from the start. That spoiled royal family of hers, that's all that ever mattered. Even with all of the warning signs, however, it was all at once that he learned just how much he didn't fit into her picture perfect future.

Time after time she had refused to travel with him. Not to Madrid, not to Milan, not to New York, and not to Athens, the last endeavor he had made on his own in part to spite her. During their last argument she had accused him of forcing her to choose between him and her family by dragging her around the world on trip after trip. This angered him, but he had relented, telling her to go do whatever she wanted. He wouldn't dream of not letting the princess have her way, and he made sure to note as much with all of his available sarcasm. The fight may have ended there, but she had followed him into the next room, explaining to him that it was cruel to ask her to so frequently leave behind her aging grandmother and her distant cousin Sophie and poor lonely Pooka, and that's where Dimitri lost it. He didn't fit into her little family portrait but that yappy little _mutt_ did? He called her selfish, heartless, told her that if she loved her money and her stuck up little family so much that she should stay with them and never come back, and as she stormed out he demanded with pained frustration, "I'm your husband, aren't I? If I was never your family then what _was_ I to you?"

In her anger she had turned on a heel, shouting back at him from the bottom of the steps to their French apartment, "The kitchen boy!"

Dimitri then watched her leave for the last time, his jaw slack in shock and his heart crushed to a pulp.

She had apologized later, but it didn't make a difference. Things were already unsalvageable. If she'd meant it enough to say it, she'd meant it enough. He knew he'd never meant as much to her as being a Romanov had…he just wished he'd never convinced himself otherwise.

Vlad begged him not to go. The old Russian couldn't accompany him—he was wedding Sophie soon and his place would be in Paris. Dimitri didn't condemn him for that. He didn't expect Vlad to uproot and follow just for his sake. They might have been thick as thieves before Paris, but once they had come to a mutual understanding of settling down, he knew it wasn't right to expect the man to bow out of his commitment just because his long time partner had. But now he was alone. Alone and poor. He really should have taken Anya's guilt money. His pride wasn't going to fill his stomach or keep him warm at night.

The sun was setting and the streets were beginning to empty, but Dimitri was in no hurry to get indoors. That was most likely because he had no indoors to go to, something he was decreasingly confident about his ability to remedy. He'd be picked clean to the bone by robbers if he lay out somewhere in the street. He looked to the ruins glumly, noting the passing bums that took refuge in the furthest outcrops that offered virtually no shelter, open to the burgeoning night sky above. He kept his head down and walked past them with little incident. He knew how to carry himself with a disgruntled, gruff air that warded away most passersby. He was Russian after all. Dimitri moved slowly along a broken stone wall with eyes listlessly scouring the faded etchings and Greek lettering. He studied the sights before him robotically and wondered, in the back of his mind, why he ever thought he'd have any interest in this place to begin with. Everything felt flat now—hollowed out. But he wouldn't give Anya the satisfaction, even though she would have taken no satisfaction from it, of acknowledging that she was the reason for his newfound abject disillusion with the world.

He kept along a more secluded path until at last he reached an area that looked to be deserted. It was a small, decrepit portion of ruins, but it was mostly intact and would probably do for a couple of hours of rest if not a night. He waltzed in and looked to the walls once more with diminished interest. This was once a temple, he gathered, judging by the restored wall paintings and various idols depicting a godlike woman. Harmonia, he took from an etching. The goddess of unity, peace, and all things ordered. In his bitter, ironic state, he inwardly remarked how appropriate it was that he should end up here. He only seemed to be at peace when his life was in ruins.

As he circled the dome-like interior he came across a mural that was much larger than the others. Something ancient and mythic, more grandeur than even the likenesses of the goddess herself, which seemed humble by comparison. It spanned across the entire northern most face of the wall and hosted a single figure of a man. He was royally dressed, that much was obvious, and held above him a gargantuan, illuminated tome that poured light out into the skies above a cityscape. Dimitri gazed upon it with muted interest at first before his eyes fell upon the small plaque sitting in front of it. Since there was no Russian translation he went off of the French, which he knew enough of to get by. "King Proteus of Syracuse, returning the stolen Book of Peace to Greece".

Dimitri stepped back and sat at the steps of a tall statue, leaning against it for support as he studied the portrait. King Proteus. Of course he was a king; historical paintings were big on exalting those in death who had already been exalted in life. He had to wonder about the thief's story. The lowlife that no one would have even noticed if he hadn't swindled them. The guy whose portrait never made it onto temple walls and whose story would never be etched into a multilingual plaque. Some poor dumb schmuck who was probably beheaded, and whose beheading wasn't even important enough to mention. Dimitri didn't realize how personally he was taking this supposition until he noticed that he was rubbing his throat at the thought. He waved a hand at nothing. He'd been alone for too long. He was even finding things to be unhappy about in some ancient wall art.

He sighed, leaning back and pulling something from his pocket. Speaking of thievery, he had to say that he'd kind of missed it while playing the good husband in Paris. A bottle of Ouzo had been an easy grab from a flustered shop keep that was too short to see over his own counter and preoccupied with a group of rowdy gypsy kids Dimitri had persuaded to follow him in. He opened it but didn't drink, hanging it from a hand listlessly between his drawn up knees as he leaned back against the stone. _This was a stupid idea to begin with._ He thought to himself in an attempt to rationalize things. _There's nothing here for me._ _I'll take the first boat back to France._ The only problem with that plan was that he had no reason to return to Paris. Or to St. Petersburg. Or to anywhere. Perhaps that was really the root of his growing depression, but he couldn't bring himself to admit that he finally understood how Anya felt all of those years up unto the point they had met.

Dimitri never had a family. The servants at the royal palace he barely remembered and Vlad were the closest thing he knew to familial ties, but when it came down to it, he was no one's primary concern. Not even Anya's, but why should he be? He was just her kitchen boy. He curled a lip and took a drink of his booze. He had taken it as a personal offense when she had griped about being an orphan to him for the first time on the train out of St. Petersburg. As though she were the only one who'd been left behind in this world. And not everyone grew up to find out that they actually belonged to a rich family who loved them, mind. He'd blocked it out then as her being a mouthy little brat that he only would have to put up with long enough to pull a good con, which at the time was truly all he'd been concerned with. Now, after being tantalized with a sense of belonging, he felt truly shunted. He had never expected to have someone give him a home. He was a duped fool to believe he ever really had one. Home is where the heart is after all, and broken hearts had only broken homes. Like these decrepit, uninspiring ruins. Why did she have to come along and make him feel so…empty? He drank more and sighed, setting the bottle down and gazing up at the glorified King Proteus.

"That one's my personal favorite, you know."

Dimitri nearly jumped out of his skin as a female voice resonated off of the stone walls behind him. He quickly scrambled to his feet, turning around to blink startled into the dark. How could anyone have approached without him noticing? He was never more than a few feet from the temple's only entrance.

A regal looking woman stood next to a vase resting on a pedestal, her fingers grazing the artifact's surface before her kind face turned back upon him. Her golden curls shimmered in the light of the sunset. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Dimitri shook his head, taking a slight step back. "Oh. Uh. You didn't. I was just, you know. …Admiring."

The woman nodded in understanding and slowly moved to his side to stare up at the mural. He looked at her, still in slight shock, before following her eyes back to the portrait. "Do you know the story of Proteus, then?"

Dimitri leaned back a little, flustered by unexpected and unwanted human interaction. "Nope. Can't say I remember that one."

The woman shook her head. "It isn't well known. Though I think it rather deserves to be. It seems sometimes the most significant of man's acts, the ones that speak the most of his presence on this earth, go sadly unsung."

Dimitri paused for a long moment before taking another casual step back. "That's…deep and all, but I'm really just a tourist."

The woman turned over a shoulder with a patient smile before looking back up. "You've certainly picked a remote spot as far as tourism goes. People seem to rarely stop by my temple anymore."

"_Your_ temple?" Dimitri countered, glancing around at some of the idols. "I think a certain goddess might have a bone to pick with you on that one."

She smirked somewhat knowingly and shook her head. "I often come here. I always have, in fact. I've got more than a few fond memories of this place. And while it doesn't draw many, it always seems to attract the most interesting people."

"Well, sorry to disappoint you." Dimitri jested half-heartedly. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm just passing through. I'm really not into…" his eyes crawled up the wall before them. "…art."

"I'm not talking about the art, you silly thing." She chastised good-naturedly. "I'm talking about the man."

A lethargic 'hmph' pulsed in Dimitri's chest before he waved a hand in dismissal. "And what makes you think I'm into _those_?"

She threw him a petulant look for a moment before gesturing to the mural with a graceful flick of the wrist. "It's a pity, really. Proteus accomplished truly great things as a man, and the only thing history feels worth remembering is a small, terribly trite portion of his story that had very little to do with his humanity."

There was silence for a long moment before Dimitri slowly stepped back over to her. Certainly he was still a little confused as to who this woman was and why she was so interested in this dead guy's tale, but he figured that his only other option besides indulging her was leaving to find a new spot to stay and brood. "What, bringing peace to a whole country wasn't noteworthy enough?" he muttered.

"It was hailed by his people as his most notable act, yes. But it wasn't that book in his hands that made him worth painting on a wall. It was something else entirely." She stroked the surface of the stone. "When this incident occurred he was only a prince. He very narrowly survived to kingship due to the events surrounding this moment. Mere minutes before this depiction he was slated for execution."

"Because he let their precious book get stolen." Dimitri guessed with thinning interest.

"No. In fact they already had someone to blame for that. As the legend goes, there was once a thief. A thief who said he was framed by the goddess Eris for the theft of the Book of Peace from Syracuse, but when he was brought to trial, he was of course thought to be lying and was sentenced to death. He was, after all, a known criminal to begin with. As far as the council was concerned, it was simply too easy to place blame on an unpunishable god back in those days." The woman paused, rubbing her chin and casting a glance at Dimitri. "But one man took the thief's words to heart. You see, he and Prince Proteus were old acquaintances, and upon hearing of the trial he stepped in to demand that he be held prisoner in the thief's place."

Dimitri blinked up slowly at the portrait and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Proteus believed the man's tale when no one else would. …Saw something that others insisted was not there. He shocked the city when he placed his future in the hands of a person who they had been so quick to dismiss as an infamous scoundrel. Proteus risked his life on the smallest of chances—that a supposed no good robber would track down the Book of Peace and return it before such time that the execution would take place."

"Mm. And what happened?"

"For days the city waited with bated breath, certain that the only heir to the throne was doomed. His father, King Dymas, made elaborate plans to send his son into hiding away from the city to save him, but Proteus would not hear of it. He waited. And on the day of his execution, the thief was still nowhere to be found. Then, just as the axe was raised, his people watching with helpless despair as their innocent prince knelt for his own beheading, the thief arrived."

Dimitri shook his head and looked back down. "That's an awful lot of suspense for nothing. If he had the book all along, why didn't he just give it back to begin with?"

The woman smiled. "When the thief returned, he didn't have the book. He had tried for days, through obstacles beyond their imagining, to reclaim it, but he had failed. Even so, he came back to accept his sentence and spare his friend."

"Hmph." Dimitri turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Peachy. So the thief gets sacked and the prince gets all the glory. That sounds about right."

"Well for your information, neither the prince nor the thief died that day." The woman continued primly. "You see, he hadn't been lying about the treacherous goddess who framed him. When she had been proven wrong about the thief's character, along with everyone else, she was forced to return what she had stolen and so spared his life. …It isn't emphasized in texts and it isn't celebrated or in fact remembered, but the thief was every bit the hero that the prince was. Just another remarkable act of man that went shamefully unsung, I'm afraid."

Dimitri again gazed up at Proteus, his previous bitter tidings ebbing as he pictured a royal prince giving his life to defend the honor of a misfit bandit. Having worked under royal figures himself, he found it outright laughable to imagine one risking anything on his behalf. "Call me pessimistic, but I don't see how it makes a difference _which_ part of a fictional story they painted." He huffed quietly. "If that was really a part of humanity worth celebrating it wouldn't be just a legend."

The woman turned towards his retreating form. "I take it you have little faith in your fellow man."

"Man. …Woman. Doesn't really matter." He snorted. "It's a nice sentiment, but it's just a story."

"Perhaps, but all stories are based in reality. And after all, there is no true evidence that disproves it as fiction."

Dimitri chuckled cynically. "Believe me; I uh…I know firsthand that things like that don't happen in the real world."

She frowned. "You must have been spurned rather terribly to feel that way."

Dimitri offered a dismissive, joyless smile and folded his arms. "Look lady, I don't mean to sound rude, but what fantasy land did _you_ grow up in? Sure, we'd all like to live in a world filled with…Proteus-es, but it's a fairytale. In the real world, the thief never comes back, or the prince isn't stupid enough to take his place, or both the prince and the thief are killed just for wasting everyone's time. And just—just where do you get off assuming that I'm 'spurned', anyway?"

"I've seen my share of downtrodden men. Just because Greece is a popular vacation spot doesn't mean that it isn't full of as much internal hardship as the next country. Maybe even more." She approached him carefully, examining him as she walked about. "You have that look about you. The one that says you're a man who took a chance on his heart and was miserably let down. One that tells me you've either been betrayed or done something that you vehemently regret. Or perhaps both." She paused, glancing down and raising an eyebrow. "And the fact that you're here entirely alone apart from a bottle of spirits to drown yourself in doesn't exactly point to the contrary."

Dimitri furrowed his brow in mild aggravation and slight unease as she circled him. "Hey, if I wanted to get this personal I would've spent my vacation money on a therapist. How long have you been watching me, anyway?"

The woman hesitated. "Longer than you think."

"Comforting." Dimitri cleared his throat before backing off slightly. "Now not that you aren't a perfect joy, but I'd better be on my way."

"Oh?" she called as he turned. Her voice was strangely amused. "And go where?"

He stopped in his tracks, turning back to face her but not sure why. Maybe it was to tell her off—the nerve, presuming to know his circumstances—or maybe he was only stalling because he didn't in fact have any destination in mind. He ended up saying nothing at all, mouth hanging open and an accusing finger raised.

The woman sighed, her expression apologetic. "You're Russian. Which means that in this century, the land _you_ grew up in is a place still falling to shambles in the aftermath of a revolution. By looking at you I can see that you must have been coming of age through the trials and tribulations of a world war and civil unrest. And now you're a man, having at last escaped an oppressed, impoverished homeland…but it's left you with nowhere to go. I've met my share of travelers with your story."

Dimitri shook off his surprise at the accuracy of her assumptions and replied coolly, "Not my story exactly. Trust me on that one." _Not unless they involve undead warlocks and magic curses._ He amended mentally.

"Yes, of course. That's only half the reason you're here, isn't it?" The woman was suddenly at his side so quickly that it startled him when he looked over. "There's also the person who broke your heart."

He blinked repeatedly at her perfectly serious face before scoffing. "And just how would you know?"

"Lucky guess." She said innocently. "Men with broken hearts often showcase a similar disposition."

Dimitri shook his head and moved away, but she followed.

"Guarded. Defensive. Holding a well of sorrow under a pitifully thin film of bravado. Uninterested with his surroundings, bitter, completely oblivious to—"

"Okay, okay, I think I get it." Dimitri interrupted. "Please, stop _describing_ me."

The woman quickly backed down. "Forgive me; it wasn't my intention to antagonize you."

"Could've fooled me." He muttered. "Whatever, it's fine, it…doesn't matter. I appreciate your uh… 'concern', but—"

"I hope that you do." She cut him off and looked out at the now black sky, folding her hands in front of her. "May I ask you something?"

"_Now_ you're worried about seeming too forward."

"Very well." She sighed gruffly. "Perhaps I don't know why you're here, but I can hazard a guess. You supposed that it would relieve your aching heart some, but it hasn't, has it? Instead it's only given you silence and time to dwell. This country, these sights…this painting, this story, even this conversation…it's done nothing for you, has it? I don't expect that it has." She met his eyes. "You did imply that a better world is a place wherein men like Proteus existed, did you not?"

Dimitri took a few more retreating steps back and turned fully away from her. "I don't see what you're getting at."

"I'll simplify my question, then. To you, present Greece is the same as Soviet Russia. But if you had the choice, would you change worlds? Would you leave this one behind to explore another in hopes of a better future, or have you already resigned your remaining years to ruing the past?"

He couldn't see her with his back turned, so he threw up a hand to signify his exasperation. "So just to be clear, you're asking me whether or not I'd accept if some space alien came down here and offered to transport me to Mars for the rest of my life? Well sure, lady. Why not? What have I got to lose?"

"What indeed." There was a triumphant smile in her tone.

Dimitri blinked away sudden stars of exhaustion and turned back to face her, only to find that things were hazy and the woman seemed to be towering over him in the most peculiar, inhuman way. He felt his form heavy and sinking, but was too dazed to be alarmed by this. The room had suddenly grown so dark that she was the only thing in clear focus.

"That I can do for you, Dimitri."

His eyes fell lidded as hands took his face and tilted it up towards her. He knew that he had never given her his name, but as lips caressed his forehead and her presence drew away, he could only muster the energy for a slow collapse to the stone floor into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

_I hate this chapter. It refused to rework and stuff. But if I don't just get on with it I'll never continue, so, BEHOLD!_

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_Chapter Three_

Dimitri awoke to the sounds of city ruckus, disoriented and confused being that he was lying on a stone floor in an unfamiliar setting and found he retained virtually no memory of having gotten there. When his eyes opened he could only stare at the feet of a pristine marble statue erected before him and scour his brain for an explanation of his current state. Traveling. He was traveling. In Athens. Anya was gone. The Ouzo… Dimitri rubbed his head and tried to groggily push himself off of the floor with his hands. That's right; he remembered stealing a bottle the day prior. He must've drunk it all to be this…come to think of it, he felt perfectly fine. No headache, no upset stomach, and the glaring bright light of the morning sun only mildly irritated his newly opened eyes. He managed to push himself up to his knees, and as he did so the memories began to fall back into place. He had wandered here in the late evening and had met…that woman. Whoever she was. He looked around and rubbed his stiff neck before realizing that his coat and hat, as well as the Ouzo, were gone. He scowled, falling back on his behind and sighing. Of course she'd robbed him. That was precisely what he'd been trying to avoid by hiding out in here if he remembered correctly; why _wouldn't_ she have robbed him? Upon patting himself down, however, he found that she had missed the thief's wallet that still sat in his front pocket. At least he hadn't been totally cleaned out.

He rubbed his face as he climbed to his feet, scanning the temple again as he tried to piece his night back together. What had she done to him, anyway? It would have been impossible for her to drug his drink, especially considering that he hadn't even swallowed any of it after they'd met. Then again she _had_ said she'd been watching him longer than he'd thought. Still, how could she have…he shook his head. The most plausible explanation was that he had collapsed from exhaustion. He hadn't slept well in days, kept up at all hours with his thoughts, and when he was at his weakest she'd made off with his things. Some of them, anyway. He was still curious as to why she'd left his wallet behind. He sighed and looked up at the northern wall to the portrait of Proteus of Syracuse…only to find that it was not there.

Instead there was a man in a robe on a ladder, brush in hand as he dabbed at the naked wall. The painting he had stared at for so long last night had seemingly vanished without a trace. Dimitri ground the heel of his palm into his eyes, blinking back at the barren surface with disbelief. He opened his mouth to try and speak but was cut off as someone rudely shoved past his shoulder. It was another bearded man carrying supplies and giving him a dirty look. "Watch it. We've got a job to do here, if you don't mind," he snapped.

Dimitri stared dumbly, backing away. "Oh, uh…sorry." He watched as the man went back to the wall and joined the first.

"Who let this guy in?"

The man on the ladder turned to eye Dimitri with disdain. "I don't know. He's been here since before I started. Just some drunk, I think."

"I'll just uh…" Dimitri turned away, shaking his head as he quickly made his way to the exit. That was strange. Why would they have painted over an ancient mural like that? Greece revered these old ruins and works of art, didn't they? Wasn't that the entire basis of their tourism? He shrugged and dusted himself off before venturing out into the sunlight. That's when his day got a hell of a lot stranger.

Dimitri may have been halfhearted about the sites he passed by yesterday, but he was one hundred percent positive that they had all been _ruins_. As he stepped outside of a temple that had been remote just a few short hours ago, he found himself immersed in a bustling city space. There were no ruins to be seen. Monolithic structures surrounded him without an inch the wear and tear you'd think a few centuries would inflict on stone. Roads were suddenly paved over what had been dirt and grass last night. Even people's clothing was different. Dimitri slowly stepped away from the temple and turned to look all around him, wandering off into the streets with slack jawed wonder. _It really seems like I would've remembered this,_ he thought, making way for a mule-drawn cart. _Guess I must've…walked a lot further last night than I thought…_ He moved awkwardly through the crowds, ignoring the remarkable amount of odd looks he got as he did so. Everything just looked so…_different_.

Dimitri continued on, trying to push the sudden, irrational sense of panic gathering in his throat back down into his stomach. It was high time he got out of here anyway. If he remembered his missing map right then the closest port was about three miles west of here, where he would be able to secure passage back to France.

He assumed that at least some time into his journey things would start to look normal again. With each step he took that this did not occur, he became more and more frazzled. Every strange sight he encountered he tried to dismiss with a stubborn sense of rationality. Maybe not all of Greece's old buildings were ruins. Maybe some of them were still in use today. They must just…still dress this way in certain places. He was no Athenian expert, how should he know? As time dragged on and his feet carried him further, half of him was desperately scouring his environment to find normalcy while the other half insisted peevishly that there was nothing abnormal in which to search for it. By the time he was nearing the docks, he was avidly embracing the second line of thought.

He stopped as soon as he reached the adjacent market place to try and find some food, as he just then realized that he hadn't eaten anything since the day before. He approached a merchant selling a small variety of fruit from a stand and perused the middle-aged woman's goods listlessly. He felt better now, even if everything around him was strange. But he was sure that just speaking to someone would brush off this displaced feeling in his stomach. "Uh, excuse me," Dimitri called to the woman.

She turned a weathered face towards him, eying him with what he thought was completely unwarranted suspicion for a tradeswoman to give a potential customer. "What do you want, boy?" Not very friendly, but at least she spoke his language. His Greek was still rusty at best.

"What do I want?" he snorted. What did she think he wanted, a date? "You're selling these, aren't you?" he tapped an apple with his finger and she scowled at him.

"Oh, so you think you're funny, do you?"

"No, I think I'm hungry. Now is this a fruit stand or a performance art piece?"

"Don't talk to me that way." The woman folded her arms and curled a lip. "I don't like foreigners buying my fruit."

Dimitri folded his arms in retaliation and huffed. "Oh, well, you picked just about the greatest location then. It's so inland and away from arriving ships full of foreign travelers."

She grumbled, turning up her nose at him. "Well I don't like _some_ foreigners. I don't know where you come from and I don't know what diseases you might have brought with you."

Dimitri's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean you don't know where I come from?"

"Exactly what I said; how am I to know which one of these ships you crawled out of?"

"You're speaking _Russian_ to me, aren't you?"

She gave him a long, dull stare.

"I'm from _Russia_," he elaborated.

The woman threw up her hands. "Never heard of it. Now go away, you're scaring away my customers with your terrible attire."

Dimitri gave her a stupefied gaze. "Never heard of Ru—wait, what's wrong with my clothes?"

"Go, go bother someone else with your crazy talk."

Dimitri suppressed his initial shock and smacked his palms on the wooden surface where her fruit sat, causing it to shake slightly. "Hey, wherever I'm from I have money. You do take _money_, don't you?"

The woman's stern face faltered and her eyes darted around. She hesitantly dropped her hands from her hips and relented. "Alright, fine. Make me an offer."

Dimitri shook his head, muttering things under his breath as he reached into his pocket for his stolen wallet to pull out a bill. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Here." He thrust out a bill to her and she stared at it with a slow forming sneer.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" she pushed his hand away. "You said you had money. What kind of con are you trying to pull you crook?"

"Are you crazy?" Dimitri straightened up. "I might be a foreigner but I know that a piece of fruit can't be worth more than that."

"More than a drawn on scrap of paper? What kind of lunatic are you? Go on, get out of here, you're wasting my time!" she attempted to shoo him away and he recoiled with indignation.

"_I'm_ wasting _your_ time?" he bristled. "Listen lady, I'll just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that around these parts you're known as the kooky old village hag who skins and boils cats in her spare time, so I'll make this easy on you." He slapped his drachma onto the surface of the stand and picked up a piece of fruit to hold up to her. "I _pay_ you, then I _take_ this."

The merchant's face reddened with ire and she held a hand to her chest. "So now you're a thief! Fine, boy, have it your way. Guard! Guard, this man is robbing me!"

Dimitri again folded his arms. "Oh, yes, please do call the authorities, I'm sure they'll be interested to know just what kind of scam you're operating here."

"What's the trouble, hag?" a deep voice asked from behind Dimitri's shoulder. He smirked at that address and turned to look at the speaker—only to gape as he saw two men equipped with swords and armor. Okay, now this was really too much. Why was everything around here so primitive?

The old woman thrust an accusing finger into Dimitri's face. "This man tried to pay me with pieces of paper and now he's stealing my fruit!"

"I _paid_ her for it." Dimtiri held up a bill in front of the nearest guard's face. "She's just a hysterical old crone."

The guard swiped the bill out of his hand and examined it for himself, a brow arching. "What is this supposed to be?"

"Are you serious? Don't you Greeks even recognize your own _currency_?"

The guard crumpled it and tossed it aside, where Dimitri's eyes followed it in disbelief. "You're going to have to come with us."

Dread slowly crept into him, pushing away his previous sense of irritation. "What? Come with—where?"

The guards shared a look and the closest one's hand subtly lay to rest on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"Oh." Dimitri blinked, setting the fruit down and clearing his throat. He swept a hand through his hair and looked around in dazed worry, trying to keep his breath even as he scanned his environment calculatedly. "Okay. Uh. Just let me…" he tapped his chin for a minute—then bolted.

"After him!"

He wished he had a better plan than this. Mostly because it wasn't a plan, it was more of an act of desperation not to be jailed in a foreign port with no one to rescue him. He leapt over a stack of crates as he weaved through the marketplace, trying to escape the sight of his pursuers, but they were astonishingly fast even in armor. _One day, you're_ really _gonna be too old for this_, a voice noted dryly in the back of his mind as he scrambled between a crowd of bodies that spread apart seconds later to make way for his would be captors. He dodged around a stationary horse and spun narrowly to avoid two men behind it carrying a large amphora. One of them stumbled to avoid him as well and dropped what he was carrying, sending its liquid contents into the street and one of the guards, who slipped on the now slick stone beneath them, skidding into a nearby merchant's collection of trinkets for sale. Screams of outrage followed him but he sprinted on as fast as he could.

Dimitri finally lurched to a halt in the middle of the street as he looked out on the docks with ships all now in plain view. Wind powered ships with sails. Enormous, ancient looking vessels. His mouth dropped as he gazed up at them, losing his ability to rationalize this situation once and for all.

"There!"

He whirled around to find both guards back on their feet and charging towards where he stood floundering in plain view. He had nowhere to run—land ended a few hundred feet from where he stood. He lunged through the crowd again towards a series of buildings, ignoring shouts and stammers from the people he pushed past. His only option was to hide. He could hear the guards on his heels as he came to the side of a ramshackle building, only to find that he had run straight into a dead end alley. The guards were seconds behind him. He looked around frantically and flew towards a wooden cart leaning against the side of the building. The only way out was up. He quickly climbed on top of it and leapt to the nearest ledge, clutching to it as he looked down to the guards. They had stopped to look up at him, speaking hurriedly to one another before they entered the building, no doubt in an attempt to cut him off and beat him to the roof. Dimitri gritted his teeth and hoisted himself up, scaling the stone wall as fast as he could.

He hooked his arm over the edge of the roof as soon as he made it, pulling his body over the rise and rolling to his feet. He turned as he heard the guards at the highest window below, one of their gloved hands clutching at the roof's edge as he began to climb out. Dimitri backed away until his heel hit air over the other side of the rooftop, glancing down with a dizzying nausea as he realized how far down it went. The building directly overlooked the drop off into the docks, hovering over the ocean and a single ship still in harbor. He looked back as one of the guards was making it to his feet and drawing his sword. Dimitri swallowed. What a vacation.

He looked down and his life of crime flashed before his eyes. Pick-pocketing in Russian slums, fooling rich prudes, stealing apples from the royal palace's kitchen, attempting to sculpt fraudulent long lost princesses, he really wished there had been more to life up unto this point—that he'd reached any measure of the peace he'd been pursuing his whole existence. He gave the guard a defiant look and watched the man's expression form into surprise. He then turned to stare down, down, down into the ocean, then to the closest ship. "This is a really…_bad_…idea." Then he backed up a few steps and took a flying leap off of the rooftop.

Collision. Seconds later he found himself grasping onto a sail that had caught him by the grace of whatever god or goddess or pantheon of deities watched over this hellish country, the wind knocked from his chest. He slid, trying to snatch a rope or sail edge or anything really, but failed and toppled down onto the deck hard, straight into a stack of barrels near the edge of the ship. His ears were ringing. He sat strewn over a pile of now broken wood and blinked as his vision came back into focus. He was unbelievably alive after that. But not unscathed. He gripped his head, groaning and peering up at the building. He could barely see it, obscured by several more barrels, but a flicker of movement caught his eye. The guards, still on the roof, looking down into the water.

"That madman _jumped_." He heard one cry in shock.

"He must be in the water somewhere. Come on."

He watched until they disappeared and panted in relief, sinking back down and rubbing his neck painfully. Apart from the fact that he was still wanted, had no idea whose ship this was, and no way of knowing where it was headed, that hadn't gone all too badly. He would just have to hide out here until those guards were gone. Surely they'd stop looking for him at some point and just assume he'd drowned, then he'd be able to get off this ship without its crew ever knowing he had been here. Apart from some…collateral damage anyway. He touched his forehead to find a lightly bleeding gash and sighed, adjusting his position to fold his legs underneath him. Minutes passed.

Patience had never really been Dimitri's strong suit, and that was especially true considering his awkward circumstances. He didn't know how long he had been here, but he was already half sick with fear of being found. Those guards couldn't linger around forever, but every time he peered out from his concealed location they were still on the docks searching for him. He leaned his head back against the barrel behind him with a thud. Didn't they have better things to do? He hadn't even actually committed a crime. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this mess. A sound made him stiffen, instinctively ducking down from any possible view. Footsteps. Voices. People were on the boat. Did they just arrive? Had they been below deck this whole time? Now it really was too late. He sank further down and covered his head with his arms as though it was an avalanche he was trying to avoid.

Maybe if he just explained this to them they would let him go. _Oh, that's a great idea._ He rebuked in nearly the same moment. _Just waltz on over and tell them, 'hey, sorry to crash land on your ship here, but I was just hiding from the local authorities is all, you understand'._ He stifled a gasp and swallowed hard as he felt the ship slowly begin to detach from the harbor. They were already setting sail. Forget waiting this out, he had to get out of here, and fast. He slowly moved from his position, crouching down as he tried to spot any crewman near him. Luckily none of them had come down this way and he knew that if he didn't take the opportunity now he would probably never get another one. He carefully crept towards the nearby edge of the ship. The ship had moved some distance from the docks already, but it would still be a manageable swim. With another look over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't been seen, he approached the edge. That's when he felt someone briefly grab his pant leg.

Dimitri fell back, scrambling in panic, whirling around with his back against the ship's railing as he stared with wide-eyed terror at—a dog?

A tan mastiff stood before him with barely contained excitement, paws dancing and drooling mouth wide open. He blinked repeatedly at it and slowly glanced down over the side of the ship. "Uhh, good dog. Nice dog. Look, let's just keep this between us, okay?"

The dog barked, eying him with the kind of unreasonable, brainless adoration that made him hate dogs so very, very much.

"Nn—shut up you stupid mutt!" he whispered gruffly, trying to move away from it. He anxiously looked around again, then was nearly knocked over the edge as two paws hit his chest and a tongue was lapping at his face. "Stop! Stop that, hey!" he growled, trying to push the mastiff off of him. "You're gonna get me killed you big—!"

"Spike!" a stern voice commanded, and both Dimitri and the dog froze. He looked up slowly to see the figure of a very displeased man. The dog gave his face one last lick and climbed down obediently to return to its master's side. The man didn't take his eyes off the intruder. "Good boy."

Dimitri gulped.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to all who reviewed. I had like, no time to write this chapter for the past week, but at last I had like, a whole hour to myself, so voila! Also, I feel I should point out that I actually have no clue what exact timeframe Sinbad's story takes place in, so I totally random-ass guess throughout this story. Enjoy that.

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_Chapter Four_

Dimitri stood unmoving—not that he could really move if he wanted to. Two rough and ugly looking men flanked him, each twisting an arm behind his back as the man who had found him, presumably the ship's captain, stood in front of the rest of a crew that was watching in amusement.

"Well well well," the captain drawled, stone still where he eyed Dimitri. "How about this, men? It looks like Chimera's got herself a stowaway."

A few grumbles and chuckles went through the small crowd. A particularly mean looking fellow eyed Dimitri as he sharpened a long knife from his perch on the ship's rail. The dog barked with oblivious enthusiasm. Dimitri thought it best not to try and speak unless it was expected of him. These didn't look like your average bunch of sailors, wherever…whenever…he happened to be.

The captain still stood with his arms crossed as he glared with agitation at Dimitri. "What are you doing on my ship?"

Dimitri paused for a long moment. "It uh…was an accident." He winced as the men around him laughed deviously.

"That's a new one." The captain noted as he cocked his head. "So I guess you just 'accidentally' walked your way onboard and neglected to realize when we set sail?"

"I…not…exactly, no."

"Hn." He grunted, still sizing up his intruder. "I didn't think so."

Dimitri wriggled slightly in discomfort. "Look, I didn't mean to end up on your ship or anyone else's. This is all a misund—"

"Stuff it." The captain thrust a finger into his face, his demeanor turning sour quickly. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I didn't just toss you overboard when I found you?"

Dimitri blinked, eyes moving through the crew and landing briefly on a large man with dark skin who was watching from a distance with a troubled expression. He looked back up to his interrogator and furrowed his brow in aggravation. He just couldn't help himself. Defiance was such an integral part of his being. "How does that make me lucky? What do you think I was trying to do before you and your goons _tackled_ me?"

The rest of the crew seemed momentarily perplexed, glancing at one another. The captain opened his mouth, but then suddenly seemed not to know how to respond, so he straightened up resentfully. "Well it's too late now. I guess we'll just have to find something else to do with you."

"Something else?" Dimitri watched as the captain paced away, shooting his subordinates a look.

"Let's skin him!" suggested the knife wielding man, raising his weapon.

A scrawny graybeard pointed a boney hand at him. "Alright, but I call dibs on them fancy clothes he's got."

A black haired man leaned towards another, both sharing similar features, and muttered, "I'll bet you Sinbad keelhauls him."

"No way," the other replied. "The mood Sinbad's been in lately he'll just slit his throat."

Dimitri swallowed and sank back.

Sinbad, apparently, narrowed his eyes. "Believe me, friend, you picked the wrong crew to try and swindle." He bent down and eyed Dimitri severely. "You know, honesty really is a prized commodity these days. I know we just met, but it _really_ doesn't bode well for you when the first words out of your mouth are a lie. So I'll ask you again. How did you end up on my ship?"

"I was just…" Dimitri paused, blinking back a suddenly uprooted memory of waking up on a ruined palace's floor, head aching, no one left for him in the world. "I was just trying to get…home."

"And where's home?"

How pitifully simple a question not to be able to answer. "…I was returning to Paris."

Another blank look. "Never heard of it."

"Of course you haven't," he uttered under his breath.

The captain stared at him for a while before snorting irritably and shooting the two crew members who were holding him a look. They released their grip on him and he nearly fell forward in surprise, rubbing his wrists as he looked back at them. "Oh yeah? Enlighten me." The captain replied. "Where is this 'Paris'?"

"I-I don't…I can't explain it to you. You've never been there—er, maybe you have, but—" Dimitri swiped a hand through the air in dismissal.

"What's that?" a crewman muttered next to him, squinting as the light from a reflective surface hit his face. All eyes turned to follow the first man's, settling on Dimitri's arm.

"What?" Dimitri glanced down, lifting his arm. "My watch?"

A man suddenly came out of nowhere and landed at Dimitri's side—a rawboned, tan skinned fellow who looked more accustomed to swinging in trees than standing upright. He snatched Dimitri's arm and examined the foreign piece of technology for himself. "What does it watch?" he inquired with awe.

"Nothing, wh—hey, stop that," he jerked his arm away only to have it snatched back by another crewman, as they were beginning to crowd closer. Sinbad attempted to interject, but was closed out as the two dark haired men, brothers perhaps, shoved him aside as they joined into the curious muttering.

"Never seen anything like this before."

"Look at that, it moves. How is he doing that?"

"What is it for?" the rope slinging acrobat demanded.

Dimitri stared numbly at his confiscated arm. "It tells time."

Sinbad huffed incredulously, crossing his arms. "Now _that's_ the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Don't they have the _sun_ where you come from?" Much to his indignation, he was ignored.

"How does it know what time it is?" one of the brothers asked, pushing his sibling's face out of the way with a hand.

"Ask it, make it tell us." The other chimed in.

"He's a sorcerer!" cried the old man.

"He is _not_ a sorcerer, he's just a—" Sinbad cried in exasperation, thrusting a depreciative gesture at Dimitri, "—no good hitchhiker with a flashy wristband!" At this address the crew backed away with apologetic subservience. Sinbad shook his head, grumbling under his breath some incoherent words of exasperation. "Well regardless of your fashion sense, you're stuck with us now, pretty boy. Whether or not you make it out alive depends on how long you can manage to be useful."

Dimitri looked around suspiciously. "Useful?"

Sinbad turned. "You ever been on a ship before?"

"Not…one like this."

"So you've never sailed."

"No."

"Ever navigated?"

"…No."

"How many knots can you tie?"

Dimitri looked down at his shoes and blinked. "Two."

"Ever fished?"

By this point Dimitri was too nervous to answer. He didn't think telling them he was really good at lying and stealing would win him any leniency.

Sinbad snorted, sizing Dimitri up with disdain. "What did you _do_ before you wound up here?"

Dimitri stepped back and looked away as he tried to come up with a feasible explanation. He'd almost never had an honest job in his life. Though he had a feeling that the same could probably be said for some of the characters he caught glaring at him like they wanted to wear his skin as a petticoat. "Uh…well…When I was twelve I worked as a kitchen boy for a royal palace…"

"Kitchen boy, huh?" Sinbad turned a look on him that was something between mischievous and malicious, and Dimitri was positive that he wasn't going to like the thought that caused it. "Did you hear that, men?" he spoke up loudly, looking around at the faces of his fellowmen before focusing back on Dimitri's. "It looks like we've got ourselves a cook."

A rowdy cheer went throughout the crew at this assertion. Dimitri just stared. So much for a life of Parisian luxury spent sipping champagne on a yacht all day. To hell with that—he'd take desolate, icy St. Petersburg back after this.

Sinbad leaned in closer. "Now I'm being pretty generous here, so you might wanna—"

"This is ridiculous!" Dimitri suddenly sputtered, and the captain jumped back despite himself. "I-I-I fall asleep in a tourist trap and the next thing I know I'm a wanted fugitive a-and a prisoner on a ship full of mangy Greek pirates?"

"Hey!" A voice snipped from the crowd. "We're not all Greeks."

"This isn't happening. I mean it can't be. What _year_ is this? How did I…how did I…?" he wavered and the men behind him backed away in preparation for him to faint. He quickly got a hold of himself, however. "Crazy. I must be crazy, that's all. I'd have to be to chase an orphan halfway across Europe, blow up trains with dynamite, kidnap old ladies, punch dead wizards in the face or try escargot. Maybe I'm really in a nice padded cell somewhere..."

Sinbad and the rest of the crew stared back at him for a moment before the captain waved a hand. "Just…take him below. I've heard enough."

The two closest crewmen obeyed, although as they seized a stiff and unresponsive Dimitri they did so with wary hesitation. Sinbad turned away and marched off towards his personal cabin, pretending not to notice that he was being followed as he retreated.

Kale, the ship's first mate, cautiously walked behind him, disapproval heavy in his tone before he even spoke. "Sinbad," he tested.

"Not now, Kale," he bit in return.

"But—"

"I said not now, okay? Sheesh, you'd think the 'Captain' title would give a little more finality to my decisions."

Kale ignored him and closed in. "Sinbad, what are you _thinking_?"

"I'm thinking that it's been a long day and we've got a lot of sailing ahead of us. So if you don't mind—" He continued on despite Kale's protest at that, "—I'm going to take a cat nap while I have a chance."

Kale folded his arms and gave a disparaging look. "You know what I'm talking about. We were practically still within spitting distance of Piraeus when we found him. Why didn't you just throw him overboard and be done with it?"

Sinbad ground his teeth. "And let him get away with it?"

"He hasn't technically done anything wrong."

"That's a matter of opinion."

Kale watched with disbelief as Sinbad turned away once more. "So what, then? Now we're taking prisoners? Slaves?"

"If that's what it takes."

"If that's what _what_ takes?"

He whipped back around, thrusting out a finger irritably. "You know something, Kale; I don't think people take me very seriously around here anymore. It's high time they learned that they can't do whatever they want—at least not on _my_ ship. Do you think I got us this far by handing out hugs and kisses? No; I got us to a life of luxury by being a dirty, no good, bloodthirsty _pirate_!" He pulled back, still glaring. "So I don't wanna hear you give me grief over this useless trespasser—who I could have just as easily _killed_ by the way. You all might think anything flies now, but by Zeus when I'm done with this guy you'll reconsider."

Kale gaped slightly for a moment before snapping out of it and shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. If anything everyone takes you doubly serious these days, especially your crew. But this is going too far, you can't take it out on this man just because Marina—"

"This conversation is _over_, Kale," Sinbad said sternly as he turned back away to find his bed. His tone brooked no argument and Kale knew him better than to pursue him at that, so he simply stood, sighing in frustration and looking with unease towards the spot where Dimitri had last stood.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks to all who have reviewed! Sorry for the short chapter, I'm making this all up as I go, so coming up with an outline for each chapter is rough. Hope you enjoy! _

* * *

_Chapter Five_

"That," an irate voice boomed through the dark plane, "is," and a shadow materialized with seething vermillion eyes, "_cheating_!"

Harmonia stood with arms crossed and posture firm, eyes lidded as she stared into Eris's glowering face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Eris curled her fists in like claws and sneered. "Time travel? You pulled a mortal through time and space _just_ to fall in _love_?"

"There was never any specification as to _where_ I found my mortal, now was there?" Harmonia replied primly, nose in the air. "You didn't make it a rule that I couldn't browse both present and future for my candidate. And what's the difference if I did? Sinbad can't love anyone anyway, isn't that right?"

Eris snarled, holding up a fist as if she meant to strike or strangle the other goddess before her anger suddenly dissipated into annoyance and she swept passed her towards the spinning globe. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Harmonia."

Harmonia turned with a triumphant smile. She was already besting Eris at her own game. Perhaps this affair wouldn't be as difficult as all that. "What's the matter, Eris? Afraid your opponent's a little cleverer than you suspected?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Eris snorted, resting her chin on her laced-together hands. "I'm just surprised is all. It's quite uncharacteristic of you to blatantly shrug those stuffy Olympians. If anything you could even say that I'm proud of you."

Harmonia's smile quickly faltered. "…What do you mean by that?"

Eris raised an eyebrow. "What do I mean? Harmonia, I may be outcast as the reckless meddler of men, but I've never been so bold as to play with the very order of time itself. The other gods might disapprove of my tampering, but I can't even begin to imagine what they'll have to say about this."

Harmonia gaped for a moment before quickly pulling herself together, straightening up and clearing her throat. "I'm quite certain that they'll forgive me this one transgression in light of never having to fret over you again."

"Let's not get too cocky now. You haven't won yet." Eris smirked, swirling a finger into the mists of the globe to open herself a window. "So who is the little tart?"

The image rippled into focus over Sinbad's ship, the Chimera. The crew was above deck toiling away while their captain watched from his post at the wheel, dog prancing about from crewman to crewman in hopes of attention. Eris's gaze drew curiously over each of them before stopping on the one that didn't belong there. Her brow furrowed and she peered deeper as though she didn't understand what it was she was seeing. Then she was gaping. "_Him_?" she cried in disbelief.

Harmonia opened her mouth to give a haughty remark about her own unpredictability, but she was instantly cut off by Eris's peals of sudden, hysterical laughter. The blonde goddess soured. "And just what's so funny?"

Eris reigned in her laughter just barely long enough to reply. "Harmonia, Harmonia!" she exclaimed, clearly enjoying this idea. "You had your pick of any mortal being in both the history and future of this world, and you not only picked a _man_, but you picked _him_! Oh this is just too rich! What did I _do_ for fun before you came along?"

"Nonsense," Harmonia snapped, shooing Eris away as she stepped to stand protectively over the image of the events she'd created. "Whatever is the matter with Dimitri? He's proven his mettle as far as mortal men in the twentieth century, hasn't he?"

Eris seemed not to have heard her. "I was sure you'd have chosen someone more…noteworthy. A lonely mermaid beauty or a woefully kept Arabian princess—even a gender confused Chinese peasant with a hero complex, but this!" Eris practically oozed with self-assurance. "That mouthy little Russian vagrant? On a ship full of pirates? He'll be dead before Sinbad even catches his name!"

Harmonia harrumphed, dismissing the notion. She knew that Eris would rain equal mockery on any potential lover she had chosen as a way of discouraging her. "I stand by my assertions, Eris. You're a lousy judge of character."

"Character? What character? This is Dimitri we're talking about—he's got about as much character as he does money, and he'll probably never end up with any of either. He's nothing but shallow miscreant. And you thought he'd be the perfect match for—"

"For a man you've described as equally shallow and deceitful?" Harmonia raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you thought I'd suppose it would be all too easy to try and force some fey maiden on him with which he has nothing in common but a means to procreate. I'd even go so far as to guess that's what you were hoping for. But I'm not so naïve, Eris. I'll see your thief and raise you another."

Eris's grin dulled and she pulled away, rolling her eyes. "Alright, alright, don't get so preachy. …I suppose he's got _some_ appeal. He's handsome enough. And he does come from a land of magnificent chaos…" She circled the globe and stared down with a face that mimicked sorrow. "But Sinbad will never love him."

Harmonia straightened up, turning away from the globe with her hands on her hips. "It's no surprise you'd say that. Most tend to forget that the idea of opposites attracting is merely an exception to the 'birds of a feather' rule. Sinbad doesn't need someone to understand him—what he needs is someone that _he_ can understand. Marina was quite obviously never that person. She could see him for what he was, but she was always a mystery to him. Perhaps at the time that was part of her appeal."

"And you think he's got a better chance of understanding a man from nearly a _millennia_ in the future?"

"It doesn't matter what year he's from. Over the course of history men tend to change substantially on the outside. Their longevity increases, they advance their technology, modify their laws…and for some reason get a tad taller, but they never truly change inside. He and Sinbad are the same."

"Well what can I say, Harmonia?" Eris chuckled. "It's very…intrepid of you. Not the match _I_ would have chosen maybe, but hey. A deal's a deal." She looked at the other goddesss with a studying eye before continuing. "Just remember that this is your only shot. If Sinbad kicks your little crook to the curb, you'll have to adjust your guest list accordingly."

Harmonia raised her head confidently. "Yes, I haven't forgotten, thank you. And if they end up falling madly for one another, you'll be out of their lives—and mine—for good."

Eris grinned. "I'll be holding my breath."

Harmonia glanced towards the globe before turning away. "Let's not get too cocky now. You haven't won yet." She echoed smugly.

Eris's smile turned more sadistic as she leered over the image of the Chimera. "No," she purred, eyes glinting devilishly over Dimitri's face. "Not yet."


	6. Chapter 6

_TOTALLY NOT POSTED IN LIGHT OF ANYONE AWESOME'S IMPENDING BIRTHDAY OR ANYTHING. (But maybe a little.) Okay so listen. First of all, sorry about how long it took to post this vs. how short it is. The only reason it took so long was I had issues with how I wanted to group the writing into chapters. There's no writer's block or anything. Yet. The good (?) news is that the next chapter will be much longer and probably posted sooner rather than later. Thanks to all so much who reviewed. I so want to do another crossover when this is done. *cough*Milo Thatch/Jane Porter*cough*._

* * *

_Chapter Six_

Almost twenty-four entire hours had passed since Dimitri opened his eyes to another world. He didn't know what exact year he'd landed in, but this was ancient Greece alright. He'd long since stopped caring how ridiculous that presumption was and dedicated his thoughts instead to a concept far easier to process: survival. Regardless of where he was, when he was, or who he happened to encounter, at least he had the basic sanity of survival skills to cling to. Right now his only course of action available was to obey his captors until such time that they either grew tired of him and killed him or were pleased enough with his performance to set him free. If he were a betting man, which he was, he'd definitely have odds on the former. Never mind that that would be a bet he'd never collect on. He swallowed thickly and kept his eyes down, awkwardly scrubbing the head of his mop down into the deck wood.

As it turned out, "cook" was really just a customary title—maybe a ritzier way of saying "cabin boy" as near as he could tell, but mopping the deck was probably not the worst thing he could be told to do. Even if he did feel the constant need to flinch every time a crew member walked past him in fear of being stabbed or pummeled. Neither of those things ever took place, but he received plenty of laughing eyes on his face if he chose to look up. To think he'd ever looked down on washing dishes for royalty. If only he'd known he'd end up cleaning dog urine off a pirate ship's deck he might have taken it a little more light-heartedly. He shook off that thought and dismissed his sudden depression at the idea that the high point in his career was being a child servant. _Maybe_ _you're looking at this the wrong way_, a voice in his head reasoned. A voice in his head, sure, why not? He'd already come to terms with being crazy. _This could be your chance to make a mark. Change history. Invent the handgun or the automobile or…electric lighting._ Of course, it would be a lot easier to do that if he knew how to actually reproduce any of those things. He would have taken at least one engineering lesson in his life if he'd ever had the foresight to prepare for time travel.

Dimitri was beginning to catch on, however, and was already ironing out the details of his situation in his head. He was sure that this was all related to that strange woman he'd met at the temple back in Athens. How he couldn't say, but what was certain was that one minute he'd been talking to her and the next he was predating his own birth. The next oddity was language. Obviously none of these pirates knew Russian—they didn't even know _Russia_ yet. And he didn't know Greek…not more than a few lewd sentences involving women's legs anyway. Yet miraculously, he was able to communicate with them just fine. Theoretically speaking at least. That "Sinbad" scoundrel seemed more interested in free labor than the once in a lifetime story of a man from the distant future.

Dimitri looked over as a loud gulping sound interrupted his thoughts to find the captain's nefarious hound eagerly lapping soapy water out of his mop bucket. "Ugh, stop that you dumb fleabag," he ordered. He pushed the bucket away from the dog with a foot, feeling needlessly protective over his mandatory task, and glared down at its excited face with disgust. Dogs. Why were people so fascinated with these ugly, stupid, smelly animals, anyway? Whatever happened to a nice goldfish? The kind of pet that doesn't yap at you twenty-four-seven or whine for attention or eat your food when you're not looking? The kind that no one values over you just because _its_ love is unconditional while _you_ have the option of speaking out when something's bothering you? It figures that the only soft spot a jerk like Sinbad had would be for one of _these_ creatures. "Go on, get out of here."

Spike seemed to mistranslate this in the worst way possible and snatched the handle of the bucket in his teeth, leaping away to drag it off.

"Oh no you don't," Dimitri growled, grabbing the edge of it and pulling. Of course the stupid mutt treated this as a wrestling match and had a grand time, splashing water on both itself and Dimitri. Suddenly the dog looked up at something and let go of his prize to loll his tongue and wag his stubbed tail, making Dimitri fall back.

"I told you to mop the deck, not play with the dog." A voice came from behind and Dimitri looked up over a shoulder to find Sinbad glaring daggers at him.

He snorted, slapping the bucket roughly back onto the deck as he stood. "I don't _play_ with dogs."

Spike barked in protest.

"Look at this," Sinbad grumbled as he surveyed the suds-covered deck floor. "You just made a bigger mess than there was to begin with. Haven't you ever cleaned anything before?"

Dimitri balked. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"Not in the least."

Dimitri clenched his teeth and turned away, tipping his now empty bucket upright and vigorously mopping the overly wet deck. Sinbad circled him with disapproval, but Dimitri ignored him.

"I mean really. Is this how they mop floors back home in your 'Paris'? Must be a country covered in grime."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes at Sinbad's blatant mockery and turned away slightly. "For your information, Paris isn't a country and it's not where I'm from."

"So you're in a truth-telling mood today." Sinbad mused. "Where are you really from? Arcadia? Gaul? Scythia? Huh. …I _know_ you can't be Spartan."

"What's the difference? You have your deckhand, why, what do the details matter?" Dimitri said with as much defiance as he felt it safe to use.

Sinbad crossed his arms, giving a devious glance at Spike. "I'm not an altogether evil cuss. Who knows? Maybe when I've finally worked you to death, I'll send a nice letter to your folks explaining that their troubles are over."

Dimitri picked up his mop for a moment and bristled, turning back. "Okay. You want to know where I'm from? I'm from a magical far off land where horseless carriages carry people through the streets at speeds faster than a sailing ship, where you can talk to people halfway around the world through wires, where when you scrape your shin the doctor gives you more options than _amputation_. Where pirate ships don't exist anymore and kidnapping a full grown man is against the law. That's where I'm from. Satisfied?"

Sinbad looked back at him through lidded, unimpressed eyes. "When you're done with the deck, get up and clear out the crow's nest, will you? Atta boy."

Dimitri watched, baffled as Sinbad brushed past him, mastiff in tow. He had the brief urge to throw the mop at the captain's head, but he was sure the miniscule gratification would not be worth the beating. He swallowed as he gazed up the mast.

"Don't let him get to you." Another voice suggested. Dimitri looked up…way up at another crewmate who was suddenly by his side, arms crossed and looking down at the young Russian benevolently. "Sinbad might not be all bark, but his bite's only occasional."

Dimitri huffed, surprised that anyone on this ship would speak to him with so little venom. He looked back in the direction Sinbad had disappeared to and shook his head. "Oh, yeah. He's a real sweetheart."

The large man chuckled, patting him none too gently on the back. "What's your name, friend?"

Dimitri skeptically gave the crewman a once over and rubbed his now sore shoulder blade. "Dimitri."

"I'm Kale," he replied. "Now loosen up a little. No one other than Sinbad is out to get you here."

Dimitri blinked and looked around to the eyes that were focused on him. He found the same creepy knife wielder from before sitting on the edge of the ship, staring him down with murder. "Uh, I'm pretty sure that guy is."

Kale looked over. "Who? Jed? Don't mind him; he looks at everyone that way."

Dimitri glanced back around Kale to 'Jed', who caught his gaze and slowly pantomimed a knife going across his throat. Dimitri swallowed again. "Right…"

Kale smiled slightly, sizing up Dimitri. "You're really not from around here, are you?"

Dimitri held out his arms in exasperation. "Is it that obvious?" He sighed, looking back down as he continued to mop. "Look, whether or not you all believe me, I don't know _how_ I got here. I'd go back if I could."

"I'm sure once Sinbad gets tired of haranguing you he'll drop you by the nearest port." Kale assured, throwing an amused glance towards Sinbad's personal cabin. "But until then, you'd really better do what he says."

Okay. Dimitri supposed he could handle that, provided Kale knew the captain as well as he implied. It did bring him at least some small comfort, but this scenario required that he stay alive until then. And how long would it take to get tired of a slave anyway? It never lost its appeal to the Czar of Russia. Not until he was, you know, murdered. "So then where is this boat headed?" he muttered curiously.

Kale sighed whimsically as he looked out over the ocean. "Retirement."

"Retirement." Dimitri repeated. "Yeah, I can see that. You guys must be exhausted, what with all the pillaging and plundering and kidnapping."

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss it a little," Kale said unapologetically. "But it's a small price to pay for living out the rest of your years in paradise."

"Paradise?"

Kale nodded. "We've only got one more stop to make before we permanently drop anchor in the Fiji islands."

"And what stop is that?"

"You really think I'm going to tell you everything?" Kale smirked and nudged Dimitri's shoulder with a fist. "Besides, I'm sure you won't have to worry about it. Just keep low, obey orders, and Sinbad will probably send you back home in a week or two."

Back home. Right. Dimitri shook his head and continued mopping as Kale walked away. He was fairly certain that this band of cutthroats didn't have access to time travel magic…regardless of how insane that sounded…and even if they did, so what? He didn't have a home in the future either. This re-realization suddenly drained him and his mopping slowed to a halt.

"Oh, and Dimitri?" Kale called back.

"Yeah?"

Kale pointed down to the deck, where the captain's dog had mysteriously reappeared to urinate on the mop bucket next to him. "…You missed a spot."

It shook its leg and wandered away, leaving Dimitri to stare. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed his brow in frustration. "Great. Thanks."


	7. Chapter 7

YAYDONE. Sorry, had less time to write than I thought. But at least it's not the frightfully short affair of the last few. ONWARD.

* * *

_Chapter Seven_

It couldn't be said of Sinbad the sailor that he was a cruel man, but he did enjoy the misfortune of others to a degree. You would have to in order to make a living as a thief, really. Now he wasn't pleased with plagues, wars, death or disaster, but the angry rabble of men realizing they'd been robbed in the night or beating a royal guard senseless in a fight or that flustered look of irritation on Dymus's face every time Sinbad had words with Proteus—well, you had to enjoy the little things in life. This was probably why he was so annoyed at present. The current object of his ridiculing was nowhere near miserable enough.

He narrowed his eyes across the deck from his position at the ship's wheel, icily sizing up the two figures at the end. There he was, that impertinent stowaway he'd found on his ship two days ago. He stood with a rope tangled about his arms and a confused look plastered across his face while Rat, the ship's rigger, attempted to train him in the ways of tying a simple knot that even a child should have learned by now. Sinbad sneered. Rat was constantly hanging around the new errand boy with awed questions and eager aid. The stupid rope slinger actually _believed_ that crackpot was from the future. It figured. To the ship's function Rat was as essential as the sails, but as a person he made up for his talents with an obnoxiously brainless personality. It was like him to take to anything that aggravated Sinbad, almost as if on purpose. It was practically the same way he'd behaved with…her. As if he'd never even seen a woman before. At the time Sinbad hadn't been sure whether that was because she was such a nuisance that he hated people drawing attention to her or because deep down he was thrown into a jealous fit when any other man spoke to her. Now he was certain, he told himself stubbornly, that it was only because she was a nuisance.

Not that it mattered now. She was gone for good—and good riddance. Who needed a woman on a ship, anyway? Sure she was smart and hard working, and maybe she was good with the men and useful in a spot of trouble, but so what? Spike was all of those things, too. And Spike was also a few things she wasn't: trustworthy and loyal. If she was going to profess her undying love for him one minute and flit off on another adventurous whim the next, well, he was better off alone. He heaved a sudden sigh of frustration at that mental slip. Alone, ha. He wasn't alone. He had his crew, his dog, his open sea, and his promise of a wealthy retirement. Everything was just as it used to be, minus the annoying girlfriend who insisted that you learn your manners and 'play nice with the other pirates'. He should be happy. Scratch that, he _was_ happy. Perfectly. And…so was she.

* * *

"_So what then? You're running back to Proteus?" he snapped. "Well that's just fine, Marina, but when you get tired of that life again don't expect me to be there to whisk you away at your beck and call!"_

"_I'm not going back to Syracuse." Her voice was eerily calm, and he hated it. When someone was calm it meant that their mind was made up. It meant that emotion wasn't swaying them. He was desperate to hurt her or get her angry, a last ditch effort to make her feel something passionate towards him. "I've explained this to you already, Sinbad. I'm sorry. I do love you, it's just—"_

"_Don't feed me that line!" he growled back, swiping a hand through the air as he moved away. "You used me! You got what you wanted out of me and my crew and now you're on to bigger and better things, right?"_

"_No, that's not true." Her tone was so sickly sweet and sympathetic that it made him want to vomit. How could she pretend to care at a time like this? When she was willingly abandoning him after everything they'd been through?_

_There was a long period of silence and Sinbad slumped, changing tactics once he realized outright aggression wasn't winning him favor. He looked away, shaking his head and resting his palms onto a desk in the corner of his cabin. "…Why, Marina? Didn't I give you everything? …I thought we…I-I have my whole life's savings ready to take us to a tropical island where we can live out the rest of our days lounging on a beach. I've loved you for so long, I think part of me always…You don't know how bad I wanted to imagine that you'd be there when I—"_

"_But that's just it, Sinbad," she interrupted quietly. "You've had your whole life to sail the ocean. Your whole life to explore the wonders of the world, and you've done it. …And you've had enough of it. No one can blame you for that. But I've only just got out on my own. You can't imagine what that's like after being kept for so long." She looked down, unable to keep him in her gaze as she continued. "Perhaps you have loved me since the moment you laid eyes on me all those years ago, but truth be told, that's a tremendous amount of pressure. You've got me out to be someone I'm not. We only just met those few short months ago when Proteus introduced us. Whoever you thought I was until then was based on my _appearance_ for goodness sake." _

_Sinbad was thunderstruck. His stomach felt like it had just liquefied at her accusation and he scoffed to cover the tightening of his throat. "So now you're saying I never loved you?" he bit back, turning around. "That's just great. You've got me all figured out, don't you, Marina? Well I'm sorry if my offer of fortune and luxury isn't good enough for you!"_

_Marina simply sighed, her face hardening. "And I'm sorry that I can't live up to your expectations, Sinbad. …I hope you find someone who can."_

_Sinbad turned to meet her eyes and for just one moment was unable to mask the heartbreak he felt at those words. Those brutal, finalizing words that translated to, 'Go and find someone else, because I'm done with you'. Then he grunted and waved her away. "…Fine…Get off my ship."_

_The silence was uncomfortable, broken only by her footsteps to the door. As she slipped out, her eyes mournful but her posture firm and confident, she bid him farewell in a bare whisper. "Goodbye, Sinbad." And she was gone._

* * *

Sinbad huffed at the memory and downplayed how much air hurt the rawness of his reopened wound. If everything Proteus, a noble king, and he, the richest sailor of the seven seas, had to offer wasn't enough for her, may the gods help any other suitor after her spoiled little heart. But it had certainly taught him a thing or two about the foolishness of letting your heart win out. It had also shown him that he was nowhere near strict enough. He'd gone too soft, gotten too lax. People couldn't just waltz onto his vessel willy-nilly and leave as they pleased, and after Marina's little escapade into his last adventure, a stowaway was absolutely intolerable. He wanted to drown that stupid, useless "cook" the minute he laid eyes on him—how dare he, who did he think he was, who did anyone think they were treating his ship like a ferry service?—but that would be too easy. He was going to make the guy suffer and he was going to enjoy it. Just…why wasn't he enjoying it yet, exactly? He blinked and glared harder at his prisoner.

From the corner of his eye he saw Kale approaching, but he didn't look over, attempting to remain stoic. The last thing he wanted was one of those heartfelt conversations Kale had been so prone to lately. "Captain," Kale addressed.

"What's the story?" he asked in a business like tone.

"Everything's in order, Captain. We shouldn't have to stop before we reach the island."

"Good."

"There's a minor concern with a wedge forming from a crack in the upper hull, but Luca has some leftover sap to patch it up and I've sent him t—"

"He's got work to do elsewhere," Sinbad cut in, throwing a head toss towards a man at the end of the ship. "Have the 'new hire' do it."

Kale blinked a few times before folding his arms. "You don't think you've been just a _little_ hard on Dimitri?"

"I don't know. Who's 'Dimitri'?"

Kale gave him an exasperated look.

Sinbad snorted. "Really? _That's_ his name? What kind of a name is 'Dimitri'?"

"Regardless, you've been giving him the work of two men the past few days."

"Yeah, and the lay about hasn't done more than half of it." Sinbad thrust a hand towards the man in question. "Does that deck look clean to you? What about the men's bunks, are they straightened? And I don't think I've actually seen him _cook_ anything yet."

"Well if you wanted to work him to death, you're getting your wish," Kale remarked.

Sinbad looked out over the deck again and studied his captive reluctantly. True enough, he was haggard, looking like he hadn't slept since he'd been here and trying pathetically to follow Rat's deft movements as he tied a knot. Sinbad wasn't swayed. "Please. I've gone a week on this boat without sleep before and you don't hear me complaining. And since when do you care so much? Don't tell me _you_ believe his story too."

Kale chuckled. "Stranger things have happened, Sinbad. Up until we reached the mouth of Tartarus I didn't believe for a second that you'd had a personal conversation with the goddess of discord."

"Oh, okay, but _him_ you believe right off the bat?" Sinbad sneered. "You guys are so gullible! Fine. Let him lie to you, but let me tell you something, Kale: I know a con when I see one." His eyes drifted suspiciously back to Dimitri. "And that guy is definitely a con."

"If you say so," Kale sighed.

"I do say so. Now is there anything else?"

"No, Captain."

"Good. Get back to work."

Sinbad watched Kale move off in his peripheral vision and continued to stare out over the ocean. Why bother worrying about it anyway? Had their more or less immediate future plans slipped Kale's mind? Well, forget Kale. Forget his bumbling crewmates. Forget their newly acquired lunatic. In a few weeks, his only worry in the world would be making sure he tanned evenly.

* * *

Later that night Dimitri wasn't having any easier a time with his chores than he had since the beginning, but luck had afforded him the presence of the ship's two brothers to help him with his current task. He wasn't sure why they were doing it apart from the reason they offered when they walked by exclaiming how lousy of a job he was doing. Jin and Li—he wasn't sure which was which—were peculiar in their own sort, but at least they knew what they were doing and made quick work of it. If he was left to patch the ship himself he would never get to bed. Not that it would have made much of a difference considering that he hadn't slept for more than an hour since he got here. Before this he could sleep through almost anything. Thunderstorms, shouting, gunshots in the street…time travel. But trying to sleep on a constantly rocking bunk in the midst of a crew of dangerous thieves was too nerve-wracking to allow him to close his eyes for more than a moment.

"I don't get it," one of the brothers said as he held up a sap covered edge of wood. "How can you never have been on a ship before in your whole life?"

Dimitri tiredly eyed the two's work and listlessly attempted to copy them. "I have. It's just…they don't have ships like _this_ anymore where I come from."

"What are ships like where you come from?" the other chimed in.

"They're made out of metal," Dimitri muttered. "Much bigger than this one and powered by burning coals."

The two exchanged a sideways glance and grew similar expressions of skepticism. "Made of metal? It would sink." One—Li, he thought, the one who seemed to be the older of the two—scoffed.

"Yeah. And it would catch on fire if you burnt anything in it." Jin said incredulously.

Dimitri curled a lip. "I don't know what's sadder. That I'll never see those things again or that you two won't live to see you're wrong."

The two brothers shook their heads. "Well," said Li, shrugging, "either way you should know how to patch a hole."

He supposed there was some validity to that. Dimitri didn't have very many trades to speak of. Charmers and swindlers of his time didn't necessarily need skills—they only had to convince people they possessed them.

"Perhaps holes in the future patch themselves," suggested Rat as he swung by upside down, hovering around Dimitri with interest as usual.

"Why don't you patch the hole in your face?" Li snipped as he swiped Rat away like a fly.

Rat huffed, leisurely drifting to Dimitri. "Do not listen to them, _cuoco_. They're too simple-minded to imagine things like metal fire ships. _I_ believe you."

"Uh…thanks," Dimitri nodded. He wasn't sure how comforting it was that Rat was actually crazy enough to believe his story, even if it _was_ true. He wiped his brow and sat back, sighing quietly in relief as he realized that his task was almost finished. Then his tone turned cynical. "Not that it really matters. Your precious Sinbad's going to kill me anyway, remember?"

"He might change his mind." Li offered with another shrug.

"Yeah," agreed Jin. "He hasn't done it yet."

Rat nodded in accord. "Besides, why would he want to get rid of a worker that he doesn't even have to pay?"

"Or respect," Jin pointed out.

"Or like," Li added.

Dimitri gave them a glazed stare. "Thanks, I feel so much better."

In the meantime Sinbad was on his way back to the wheel to relieve Kale of his nightly shift. He wasn't scheduled to do so, but when he couldn't sleep he always found it comforting to spend some time in his favorite carefree spot. Not that he didn't trust his crew—a select few of them anyway—to do the driving, but there was no substitution for the feeling of being directly in control of everything around him with his own two hands. Kale might protest since Sinbad had only left that post a few hours ago, but if he had any more complaints about his captain's conduct he could kindly throw himself overboard. He straightened up confidently and stepped out into the upper deck, but upon hearing voices he stopped to peer out around his cabin and saw a few of his treacherous crewman flocking around the ship's supposed cook with far too amicable a demeanor. Sinbad's shoulders dropped and he grumbled in irritation. Just what did they think they were doing? That smart-mouthed clown wasn't going to learn anything if they up and did all his work for him. He was about to barge in and remind them of this when a statement from Li stopped him in his tracks.

"Who knows? Maybe Sinbad's finally cooling off."

Well, he wasn't about to miss an opportunity to eavesdrop when he was the topic of discussion.

"What do you mean, 'cooling off'?" Dimitri asked with no shortage of doubt. "I've met bears with friendlier dispositions."

The three crewmen chuckled slightly, which made Sinbad cross his arms in resentment.

"Well he used to be laidback," Jin reminded, looking to his brother for support. "But he's been real uptight ever since—" he stopped as Li's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about that…" he justified, looking around in paranoia.

Sinbad grunted in disbelief, his feathers ruffled. What an exaggeration. As if he hadn't even been the same man since Marina left. Sure, maybe he'd been a little firmer, but he wasn't an overbearing tyrant. He thought he'd hired a crew of men, not a gaggle of simpering children. By the time he was done grinding his teeth over this the conversation had already moved on.

"There's just one thing that I don't understand," Rat said, tapping his chin. "If you didn't want to be here, why did you leave the future in the first place?"

Dimitri snorted and continued laving sap into a crack. "Believe me; I didn't do this on purpose."

"I see," Rat crooned sympathetically. "It must be difficult to be separated from your home and family then, never knowing if you will see them again."

Dimtiri's arm paused, and then came down more aggressively on his next stroke. "Oh, yeah, sure. Utterly heartbreaking," he replied sarcastically.

"Don't you have loved ones back home?" Rat continued to prod. "A girl maybe? I once had a girl waiting for me on the shores of Sicily. She was the most beautiful _signorina_ I had ever seen. Long black hair, shapely legs, a radiant smile. She could have had any man she wanted, but she only had eyes for me." He sighed, resting his chin on a palm where he leaned up against the nearest mast.

"Yeah right," Jin muttered, thrusting a thumb over his shoulder. "And I've got a harem of Persian princesses back home waiting for me."

Rat scowled at him before turning back to Dimitri. "What about you? Have you ever had the love of a beautiful woman?"

Dimitri's expression lilted for a moment and he looked down, clearing his throat. "…As it turned out, no."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know how women are," Dimitri dismissed, leaning back and stretching in an attempt to make his sentiment come off more casual. "One minute you're the love of their life and the next you're old news."

Sinbad's eyes narrowed slightly and he gazed along the deck with a small, silent laugh.

"Hm, _si_, that is sometimes true," Rat nodded. "Was it another man she wanted?"

"What she wanted, who knows what she wanted? What's the point of trying to figure it out? The bottom line is that one day they leave because what you've got isn't good enough for them. God knows what _is_."

Sinbad blinked and took a step back further into the shadows. He had to admit that the guy made a familiar point. He paused and cocked his head curiously, trying to hear more of the story, but Rat's line of questioning was interrupted.

"Hey, don't put all women down just because you don't have what it takes," Li said haughtily, raising his chin.

Jin rolled his eyes. "Oh no, not this again."

Li was undaunted. "Well it's true."

"And you think _you've_ go 'what it takes'?" Dimitri challenged.

"What a woman wants is a family man," he insisted. "She wants someone who will settle down with her."

_Huh_. _Not_ every _woman_. Sinbad griped internally. Wasn't that exactly what he'd offered Marina? Li was so naïve.

Li continued. "When I get off this ship, the first thing I'm going to do is find a woman and marry her. I'll build her a house and give her all the babies she wants and treat her nice."

"Yeah. And then she'll run off with the first dashing pirate who offers to take her away from it all," snorted Dimitri.

The others laughed, much to Li's irritation. He turned back to his work with an overconfident glower. "You'll see. In a few years I'll be happy, and you'll all still be single with nothing but your complaints to keep you warm at night."

"If any of you live that long," Sinbad announced his presence ominously.

The four men turned to see Sinbad approaching, who was making an effort to be as ornery looking as possible. Jin, Li, and Rat quickly darted from their positions, escaping his scrutiny by leaping back to their own respective tasks and leaving Dimitri in the warpath.

Sinbad eyed the men that had scattered warningly before settling his gaze on Dimitri. "I thought Luca told _you_ to patch this up, not sucker half my crew into doing it for you."

Dimitri turned away. "He didn't 'tell' me to do anything. He just threw a bucket of sap at me and pointed."

There was a long pause and Sinbad surveyed the task at hand with disappointment. "Well the least you could have done was learn a thing or two from them," he grumped. "Look at this. You're globbing it on, it doesn't need that much."

Dimitri slapped another glob of sap onto the crack in front of him as if in spite. "Well excuse me, your majesty, but it's not like I've ever done this before."

"What? Work?"

"Oh, and I suppose _you_ could do better?"

Sinbad scoffed. "Uh…yeah. As a matter of fact, I could."

"Really."

"Yes."

"Excellent."

"Great."

Dimitri peered peevishly over a shoulder. "Is that it?"

Sinbad tightened his jaw petulantly. "Yeah."

They both stared one another down for an almost comical passage of time. Then Sinbad rolled his eyes and grunted, snatching up a piece of wood to scrape away Dimitri's excess. "Here. Like this."

Dimitri's eyes followed Sinbad's movements carefully, but continued to dart to the captain's face with skepticism. "Alright, fine. I get it."

"Do you?" Sinbad turned to eye him. "You've gotta be the worst sailor I've ever met. You can't sail, you can't navigate, and you can't even fill a crack with tree sap right."

Dimitri pulled back in aggravation. "Maybe that's because I'm _not_ a sailor. Jeez, what is it with you guys? I don't think I'm doing half bad for only having been on a ship for three whole days."

"Do you know what happens if these cracks don't get patched properly?" Sinbad thrust his tool towards one. "They leak. Know what happens if they leak? The ship sinks. And then we drown. I'm not gonna let _you_ of all people kill us."

"Hey, don't blame _me_ for your rickety deathtrap." Dimitri held a hand over his chest. "Maybe if you took better care of this thing it wouldn't need patching in the first place."

Sinbad reeled. Take better care of his own ship? The audacity—he ought to force feed him stones and push him overboard on the spot. "What did you just say?"

Dimitri snorted lethargically. "You think if I'd had my pick of the fleet I'd choose this termite-eaten wooden shoe? Please."

Sinbad growled, clenching a fist and stammering for a moment before reining it in. "Well…at least I _have_ a ship. I don't need to hitch a ride on someone else's when I'm looking for an easy out."

"What do you mean an 'easy out'?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean." Sinbad jabbed a finger at Dimitri's face, flinging sap. "You don't think I saw the guards down at the docks in Piraeus? Or that I couldn't guess why you were hiding? Or why you tried to jump ship when we started moving? So let's stop pretending we both don't know you're a criminal."

"And you're not?" Dimitri leaned forward and Sinbad stepped away. "Besides, if you knew I was wanted this whole time why didn't you turn me in when you had the chance?"

Sinbad waved a hand. "If I knew you were this useless on a ship I would have."

"There could've been a bounty on my head for all you knew. Maybe you just missed out on the fortune of a lifetime." Dimitri pointed out.

"For you?" Sinbad laughed. "Oh, sure. I'll bet the whole royal army is looking for _you_. And with just cause, what with you being so…" he looked over the work that had been done thus far and smirked "…cunning and resourceful."

Dimitri scowled again.

"What'd you do? Get a little too friendly with the wrong nobleman's daughter? Leave a risqué temple votive? Steal from a fruit vendor?"

"No," he snapped, perhaps a little too defensively. "In fact I didn't actually _do_ anything."

"Oh, he's innocent! Even better," Sinbad mocked. "Take a tip from an experienced thief, friend: people stopped believing that line a long time ago."

Dimitri folded his arms. "Maybe that's just because you've _done_ everything you've ever been accused of."

Sinbad moved to protest, but hesitated, realizing that he probably didn't want to get into the whole Book of Peace/Marina situation with someone he hardly knew and didn't like. "Think what you want. The point is: you're using too much sap."

"_That_ was the point?"

Sinbad glared.

Dimitri lifted his hands in defeat. "…Fine. Got it." He stuck his tool back into the bucket and continued working.

Sinbad watched Dimitri in suffocating vicinity, trying to work out just exactly what this guy's deal was. Why hadn't he cracked yet? Why hadn't he begged to be let go? It seemed to him that most normal folks would have at least asked by now. Well, it didn't matter. Even the strongest willed stallion could be broken. He just wasn't pushing him hard enough. "And when you're done with that, go clean out Spike's bunk."

Dimitri looked back to Sinbad with disbelief, but his face contorted to defiance as soon as he saw the man was serious. "Oh yes _sir_."

Sinbad set his jaw, feeling strangely unsatisfied. Clearly Dimitri was more than a little aggravated and unhappy, so where was the twisted glimmer of joy that was supposed to come with it? "And…don't wake the rest of the crew."

Dimitri didn't respond other than some noncommittal hiss under his breath and Sinbad turned away to get back to the ship's wheel with a shake of his head. He'd lose that attitude soon enough. Sinbad would make sure of it.


	8. Chapter 8

_*Sighs and rubs temples* Okay. Well, sorry there was such a gap between this and the last chapter. But anyway, tally-ho. (Lol, ho) Please bear with me on this chapter. I was literally drunk when I wrote it. Then I had to edit it the next morning through the tidal wave of nonsense that it was. Thank you all so much for your kind words!_

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

It was early into the next day and Sinbad awoke with some surprise to find himself in his bed. He didn't even remember hobbling back to his quarters…hopefully someone had come to relieve him when he'd done so. He sat up quickly and grabbed his hat before hurrying to the upper deck, finding with relief that nothing seemed to be out of order.

The crew moved about as usual; Rat perched up on the sails squinting out ahead, Jin and Li arguing animatedly over nothing, spike gnawing on the bones of an old fish and looking up with excitement upon spotting him. Sinbad inhaled the morning air and crossed his arms. The only crewman—if he could be called as such—unaccounted for was the whipping boy. That lazy arrogant bum was probably still in his bed. Sinbad huffed and made a mental note to berate him later, but for now he was more concerned with the way Kale and Luca stood at the ship's wheel sharing hushed mutters and wary glances.

He climbed the stairs and looked out over the horizon briefly before approaching them. The older of the two gave Sinbad a nod and a, "Cap'n," before ambling off, leaving him alone with his first mate.

Sinbad watched him go before turning back to Kale. "And what were you two lovebirds chatting about?"

Kale was unfazed by Sinbad's ribbing, as was the infuriating norm. "There's a strong eastern wind. It's pulled us off course."

"By how much?"

"Not much. Maybe half a day's sailing."

Sinbad blinked, trying to assess whether or not he himself was to blame. Surely he didn't leave the ship unattended and cause it to go adrift in the open sea. Did he? "How?"

"It's odd," Kale paused, gazing out over the series of rock edges protruding from the sea before them. They collected off in the distance ahead to form a narrow ravine—clearly they had drifted much closer to a landmass than intended. "No matter how we adjust the sails, we can't seem to correct our course. It's as though something's…pushing us this way and won't let up."

Sinbad followed Kale's eyes and squinted out to where the abundant clusters of jagged rock joined to form the valley up ahead. "…Must be the winds ricocheting off all these rocks…keeping us trapping in a gulch. That looks like an exit up there."

"That's the general consensus," Kale agreed. "And our only option."

"Right. Keep her steady then."

"Aye, Captain."

Sinbad took one more look at the rocks ahead before stepping back down onto the deck, noting how the men continued to gaze nervously out at the approaching narrow pass. He moved to make his way across the main deck, but only made it to a one-eighty turn before smacking right into another body. He stumbled back and blinked at who he'd collided into. Dimitri stood before him fumbling with a heavy segment of rope, struggling to hoist it back onto his shoulder. Sinbad blinked, realizing with wonder that his prior assumption was wrong. Not only was Dimitri awake, but he was working, and all on his own it seemed. In fact sleep deprived might be more accurate than awake the way he was clumsily keeping balanced with a wide, red-eyed stare and a slumping posture. Sinbad cleared his throat, dismissing a surge of pity. "Watch it," he snapped.

Dimitri's eyes narrowed, perfectly articulating the accusation '_you_ bumped into _me_', but he merely gave a tight-lipped nod and kept walking. Sinbad's mouth hung open, all ready to deliver an unnecessary rebuttal. _Oh, sure, now he's suddenly Mr. Useful?_ He thought_. What's this guy's angle?_ Determined to find out, he tailed his prisoner to the foremast where he was feeding the end of the rope up to a reaching Rat and observed.

In the meantime, Dimitri was perfectly content to ignore his obviously staring captor and keep his attention on his task. He wasn't sure why he was doing this, really. Ever since he'd been assigned work, he had obeyed numbly without much consideration other than self-preservation, sure that the consequences of defying these men were far worse than a little manual labor. Something had changed over the course of the past few hours. Now he felt like he was on autopilot, working tirelessly at whatever minor task was left undone and moving on to the next without needing to be told. If he kept himself busy maybe he wouldn't be asked to do something worse than what he'd chosen. It also kept him from pausing, reflecting, and suffering a complete mental breakdown.

"If you're trying to impress me you're wasting your time," Sinbad's gratingly smug tone interrupted an otherwise calm stream of thoughts.

"If I wanted to impress you I'd do something I knew you couldn't. Like bathe regularly or tie my shoelaces," Dimitri snipped back over a shoulder.

Rat chuckled above and Sinbad shot him a glare before replying. "If you've been working all through the night then how did you not notice the ship drifting so far off course?"

"Off course? I don't know what _on_ course is. I'm not privy to the important stuff. Just a kitchen boy, remember?" Dimitri smiled sweetly before snorting and turning back around. Then he paused. "Wait, what do you mean 'off course'?"

Sinbad ignored the question. "Who did you see steering the ship last night?"

Dimitri paused, feeling that he was about to be on the wrong end of an accusation. "I thought you were."

"You thought?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to supervise my kidnapper."

Sinbad held out a finger, but then was at a loss for words and drew it back. "Look, did you see anything out of the ordinary or not?"

Out of the ordinary, that was cute. At this point he'd panic if something _normal_ reared its head. "No. What are we talking about, exactly?"

Sinbad regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before gesturing towards the open sea. "See for yourself."

Dimitri cautiously stopped his work to follow Sinbad's gaze toward the ravine up ahead. Water churned around jagged rocks at its mouth, a sign that it would not be smooth sailing once they reached it. Why hadn't he noticed _that_ before? Oh, right. The crippling exhaustion. "We're going through that? Are you insane?"

"We don't have a choice. Wind's got us pinned down. What I want to know is how this happened." Sinbad gave a pointed look and anger flared in Dimitri's chest.

"You don't actually think _I _had something to do with this, do you?"

"Did you?"

"No!" Dimitri's hands fisted in the rope. He was just about ready to snap—he didn't care about the consequences anymore. His life had been reduced to nothing anyway, let the brute beat him to death, drown him, stab him, whatever, just as long as he went down fighting instead of this, he was too tired to keep this up, he would—

"Alright. Fine," Sinbad dismissed flippantly.

Dimitri blinked in shock, his hands slowly relaxing. His vision momentarily blurred and he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "…Then what…"

Sinbad ignored his half-formed thought and looked back up at Rat. "Rat,"

"Yes Captain?"

"How's it looking out there?"

Rat's expression tensed. "The pass is very narrow. We will make it, but only just."

"We've fared worse," was the confident reply. "If we can get this ship to fly, getting it to suck in a little should be no problem."

"I hope you're right," Rat muttered as he took the rest of the slack from Dimitri and began to climb back up towards the crow's nest.

Dimitri watched him go and blinked away his double vision for the hundredth time that day, slowly turning to Sinbad once more. "Did you just say 'fly'?"

"It's a long story involving gods, monsters, and backstabbing women," Sinbad said wistfully. He then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Now get over there and help the men secure the ship."

Dimitri grimaced, but turned to do as he was told. Just then a tremor went through the ship, rocking its contents and making both Dimitri and Sinbad lose their balance. They glanced at one another before both of them rushed to look over the side.

The Chimera had drifted dangerously close to the edge of the pass, pointed rocks reaching up to graze the siding like claws. Sinbad turned over a shoulder. "Kale! Keep right!"

"Aye, Captain!"

The ships slowly pulled away from the cluster of stone teeth and, startled by the sudden jolt, the whole crew was still as the ship entered the ravine. The men looked up at the rock walls as they were enclosed, all fearful that something would catch and tear their vessel apart, leaving them stranded in rough seas. The water beneath them was becoming slightly more turbulent, but there was obviously no turning back now. This pass wasn't wide enough to exact a turn in a ship this size. As it stood there was just enough room to avoid the vicious rocks on their left and the gathering rapids to their right.

"Hold course, Kale," Sinbad ordered calmly as his eyes stayed fixed on the waters. Dimitri followed his gaze and felt seasick for the first time in his life. Maybe it was because he'd been stuck on a boat for so long without eating much or maybe it was just that strange feeling of imminent death in the air. After all, this was ancient Greece. If they got stranded out here, that was it. No rescue crew was coming by, no previous set of coordinates was handed out to someone on land who would know where they were or even that they were missing at all. Dimitri swallowed bile.

The ship jerked again, water from a frothing wave splashing up over the sides. Dimitri lost his grip on the rails and fell back, only to be caught by Sinbad's firm hand around his upper arm before he could hit the deck. He and Sinbad regarded one another for a moment and seemed equally surprised by this gesture. Sinbad quickly shoved him away and turned back. "Kale!"

The first mate did not respond, focused too intently on steering as crewmen bustled about, trying desperately to secure the sails. Dimitri flung his arms around the railing of the opposite side of the ship and leaned down to try and determine the cause of disturbance. That's when he saw the whirlpool up ahead where the channel widened.

It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. A black, cycling vortex of water, large enough to suck this ship down without so much as a hiccup. He spent roughly three seconds staring numbly into its watery abyss before scrambling back.

Sinbad followed the panicked shouting of his men and rushed to the front end of the ship to peer over. His jaw dropped as he stared mesmerized by the great maelstrom beckoning them to the left. Its current was already pulling them in. "Right, right, veer right!" he cried.

"Sinbad, the rocks!" Kale warned.

"We'll have to chance it!"

Kale clenched his teeth and turned the wheel hard, edging the ship away from the swirling depths and closer to the ravine's wall. Though the channel had expanded some, they were still dangerously close to scraping against the rocks in order to avoid the whirlpool's grasp. The men all drifted to the left to avoid the ferocious waves lapping up the right side.

"Keep her steady!" Sinbad ordered, climbing up over the side of the ship's rail to monitor the rocks on their left. "Easy, Kale. Keep straight. We should be able to sail right past this."

A burly man unsteadily made his way to the edge just below where Sinbad was standing, looking up at him with a seasick face. "Captain, we'll be torn apart!"

"Relax, Grum," Sinbad said as he narrowed his eyes up at the wall. He then turned to look down on his crewman with an easy smile. "As long as we keep steady and there's no sudden avalanche, we'll be fine."

Motion blurred between them and Sinbad jerked back to watch a heavy, fist-sized rock crack down onto the deck and skitter to a halt. Sinbad blinked at it and sighed. "Great. I just had to say it."

"Captain!"

Sinbad hopped down from his perch and joined the new source of commotion where his men stood in slack-jawed wonder staring up at the right ravine wall. He followed their eyes and was floored by what he saw. Embedded in the rocks as though dragged up them by force were the destroyed remnants of sailing ships.

"_Mannaggia_!" Rat exclaimed as he hung down by Sinbad's shoulder. "Could the waves have done that?"

Sinbad studied the remains carefully. They were slashed to bits, not as if by rock, but as if by… he slowly backed away and a screech sounded above them. "Uh, my guess is no." The crew erupted into terrified chatter.

"What was that?"

"Did you hear that?"

"We're gonna die!"

"Quiet!" Sinbad hissed. More rocks crackled down the side of the ravine and bounced onto the deck at the men's feet, knocked loose by some unseen force. Sinbad took a fast inventory of his crew's whereabouts and the accessibility of their weapons. "Rat, listen up. I need you to tak—"

Sinbad was cut off by another jarring shriek. All eyes went up overhead to find the source of the cry to a jagged cavern burrowed into the rocks several yards high. There, from the dark crevasse, emerged the head of a horrific beast. Then another. And another. Then three more followed suit. Attatched to each was a long, scaled neck, their hideous faces both reptilian and lupine and all of them looking hungrily down on the ship.

Sinbad blanched. "Ohhh shi—"

"_Diavolo_!"

The heads descended upon them. As they pulled from the shadows and into the light they took with them a monstrous frame, revealing that all were connected to the same scaly body. The thing came slithering down the rock, claws catching and scraping. A set of snapping jaws came within an inch of Sinbad's face before suddenly he was thrown backwards onto the deck. He pulled his hat out of his eyes and looked up to see that Kale, having heard the cries of his crewmen, had veered the ship away, leaving the angry beast straining to snap at their sails. Sinbad didn't have time to so much as breathe a sigh of relief before the ship tossed violently, a great wave splashing up onto the deck and sweeping all starboard crewmen portside in one swift motion. Sinbad barely managed to catch himself on the edge to avoid being sent overboard.

"Kale!" he sputtered through saltwater.

Kale struggled to yell over Jin and Li's simultaneous cries of, "we'll be eaten!" and "we'll drown!". "Sorry, Captain!" he glanced between the six-headed monster and the tumultuous cyclone. "Orders?"

Sinbad looked back to see the monster slinking over the rocks towards them as they pulled back to the wall. "Stay the course!" he shouted, then pulled himself up and narrowed his eyes at the creature. "The rest of you, take arms!" Then there was a rush of air, and that was the last sound he heard before he was hitting the deck hard again.

Dimitri was sure that some force of nature out there must want him dead. He'd come awfully close on several occasions, but a death trap like this was a new breed of determination altogether. He gazed up in numb horror at the monster making a move on the ship's crew from where he clung to a rope near one of the sails, remembering how easy it was when he just had a stuck up girl and a demonic stone Pegasus to contend with. He felt impotent as he watched the scene unfold. The beast launched three heads down; one barreled into the ship's captain and threw him aside in a botched attempt to grab him, taking the ornery sailor out of commission, another missed its target as Jin and Li sprang out of its path, and the third snatched its salivating jaws around old man Luca, heaving him up into the air.

The crew shouted and clamored, trying to reach him to free him from the creature's grasp but the thing drew up its neck and lorded the dangling figure above them triumphantly, its attack pausing to secure its prize. Luca wailed loudly, trying unsuccessfully to pry the teeth apart that enclosed him around the middle.

Dimitri blinked, letting go of the rope at once and deciding that he wasn't about to stand around waiting for his turn to be eaten. To hell whatever higher power wanted him to be destroyed. Besides, interfering had always been something he excelled at. As the crewman struggled to land blows upon the creature with long blades and crossbows, Dimitri raced past them to the entrance of the lower decks and the storage cache where provisions were held. He slid down the ladder and hurriedly gazed around, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark before he spotted the cluster of glass bottles he'd been looking for. He sifted through them, ignoring those that knocked about and fell over, spilling their contents, to find what he was looking for. The screams above him intensified. He quickly snatched the bottle closest to his hand and made his way back up the ladder. The men still fought off the other heads, only one preoccupied with trying to maneuver Luca into an easier swallowing position. Dimitri began rifling through his pockets when a hand grabbed his shirt.

He stiffened and looked over to see Sinbad pulling himself up from the ground. He looked with shock at the scene before them, chest heaving and expression both angry and panicked. Then he looked back to what was in Dimitri's hands with sudden bafflement. "Is this _really_ the time for a drink?"

"It's not for me!" Dimitri snapped, jerking away from Sinbad's grip and throwing a head toss in the monster's direction. "It's for _him_."

Sinbad stared blankly. "So what, you're gonna try and bribe it into leaving us alone with a bottle of absinthe? Are you nuts?"

Dimitri didn't acknowledge that comment, eyes still trained to the beast. "Give me your knife."

"What?"

"Look, there's no time to explain every little detail to your primitive, ancient brain, just give me your knife!" Dimitri held out a hand expectantly.

Sinbad reared back warily, looking between Dimitri and the creature. He then sighed, grunting curses under his breath before slapping the handle of his weapon into Dimitri's palm.

Dimitri rolled down his sleeve quickly, using the knife to shear away the end of it before shoving the weapon back into Sinbad's hands and uncorking the bottle with his teeth. The captain watched with impatient confusion. Dimitri plunged the end of the cut cloth into the mouth of the bottle and patted himself down frantically before finding something in an inner pocket and producing a box of matches. He struck one, setting the shirt end aflame and moving in as close as he dared to the mayhem.

He looked up, squinting past the sun to see the head that was making an agonizingly slow meal out of Luca. He then pulled back, hoping that he didn't miss and that this did more than just seriously piss this thing off, and launched it at the offending head.

The bottle surged through the air, striking the head clean between the eyes and erupting into a small shower of flames. It screeched in pain and dropped the man in its mouth, throwing him onto two other crewmen below. The other heads reeled back to as if in simultaneous pain. In an instant it was whirling around, kicking up an landslide of broken ship remnants, bones, and giant rocks that scattered into the ocean and pelted the ship. The men dove away to dodge the debris, and when the last of it had fallen, they watched the monster's tail slip over the rock back into a cavern. Almost as if surrendering at the sight, the waves on their right also subsided, ceasing the perilous rocking of the ship once and for all.

The crew slowly crept from their protective huddles and looked up, regarding each other carefully to gauge whether or not the thing was really gone. Dimitri stared up pensively to do the same, and was caught off guard when cheers erupted from the men around him.

Sinbad watched in amazement as the creature scuttled away and the ship drifted unhindered. A few bruised men helped Luca to his feet, whose clothes were in shreds and had shallow puncture wounds along his side, but was otherwise in fairly good health and shouting victoriously along with the others. The captain breathed a sigh of relief and looked around to see the damage. A sail was torn and the railing broken in places. Rubble kicked down during the monster's attack littered the deck. The other men were scurrying to right the state of things, shouting out at one another and repeatedly looking back at the cavern, now well behind them, to ensure the creature yet kept itself at bay.

Sinbad turned to look out at Dimitri across the deck, somewhere between impressed, annoyed, and guilty as hell. The man in question merely stood, gripping the arm with the torn sleeve to his side and staring with vacant exhaustion now that all adrenaline was spent. He didn't hear the faint cracking that Sinbad picked up on, nor did he sense the shadow creeping up over him. Sinbad's eyes flashed up. He only had seconds to register that above them the mangled front half of a ship drug up the ravine wall was crumbling, its foremast falling right into their path. Sinbad hurriedly glanced at its trajectory and the man standing in it. "Dimitri!"

Dimitri barely registered his name being shouted. His body was too sluggish to react with the proper urgency, only affording him sense enough to look up and see what he was about to be killed by. Then there was an impact, but not from above. A body rammed into his and knocked him from harm's way to the deck just before a heavy crash jolted the ship.

Frantic clamor rose up again around his head through ringing ears. Dimitri gasped in pain and pushed himself from the deck, gripping his head and trying to assess the situation with fried senses. Men were rushing all around him. He climbed to his knees and looked behind him to where a rotting mast had fallen onto the place he had just been standing.

"Sinbad! Sinbad, can you hear me?" Kale yelled.

Dimitri turned to find Sinbad sprawled out a few feet away, blood spattering the deck near him. His jaw dropped.

"Answer me, Sinbad!" Kale flipped Sinbad's limp body over, shaking him.

"Stand back!" Luca demanded, shoving Jin and Li aside. "I'll give him the kiss of life!"

"That's only if you been drowned, you idjit!" snapped another crew member, but Luca was not deterred.

"It's worth a shot!" the old man bent down, gripping Sinbad by the tunic and lifting him up, just as the captain's eyes fluttered open.

"Luca…!" he barked in shock, thrusting out a hand to push his crewmate's puckering face away. "If you kiss me I will turn this ship around and hand feed you right back to your six-headed admirer!"

"Uhr, aye Cap'n," Luca muttered against Sinbad's palm before pulling away.

"Sinbad! Thank the gods," Kale breathed, great shoulders sagging in relief.

"I'm fine, I'm…fine," he grunted, waving his crewmates away as he attempted to stand. One shoulder was gashed deeply and he covered it with a hand to stanch the bleeding as he looked around with concern. "Where is he, where's…?" before he could finish his question saw Dimitri gazing up at him from the deck with an expression of disbelief on his weary face. Sinbad quickly cleared his throat, looking away. "…Spike. Where's Spike?"

The dog in question barked.

"We all accounted for then?" he grimaced, leaning away from Kale when offered support.

"_Si_, Captain," Rat acknowledged, reaching down to yank Dimitri to his feet. "Thanks to _Signore_ Dimitri!"

Sinbad's eyes landed back on his prisoner. "Yeah, yeah, so he got lucky."

Dimitri was still too flustered to respond.

"Alright," Sinbad sighed, wincing at the pain when he turned. "Men, clear this mess up. Get us out of here before we have to find out whether or not that thing can swim."

"You heard the captain," Kale followed sternly.

The men looked at one another before gradually breaking off to find tasks. Sinbad turned back towards his personal cabin, regarding Dimitri with a lengthy glance. "And you…go…get some sleep or something."

Dimitri didn't know what to say to that. He silently watched Sinbad go before looking back towards the fallen mast and the blood stain on the deck.


	9. Chapter 9

_I hate this chapter. The next one's better. I think. *shrug*_

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

Sinbad heaved a long sigh as he sat down in a chair with a bottle of rum in hand, slowly pulling his hand away from his wound. Blood oozed down his shoulder blade as he did so and he grumbled, returning pressure to it. He could really get used to the idea of a life where deadly peril wasn't waiting around every corner. This ship could only take so much abuse before it was driftwood and he was pretty sure his crew could only take so many more incidents of nearly being eaten before they went mad. Was this the kind of adventure Marina wanted? It wasn't as glamorous as she must have supposed it was. She didn't know what she was getting herself into and was probably going to learn that the hard way. He could have lost a lot of men out there today, and it was only by a stroke of luck that he hadn't. Okay, so maybe the kitchen boy could take a little of the credit…

He didn't even bother turning his head at the knock on his cabin door it was so expected. "Not now, Kale. I told you, I'm fine. You're supposed to be steering the ship." The door pried open slightly and someone tentatively cleared their throat. Sinbad turned to see Dimitri regarding him cautiously from the doorway.

"Uh…hi."

"What do you want?" Sinbad turned back around to stare at the wall. "Didn't I tell you to get below deck?"

"Technically this is below deck."

Sinbad fixed him with a glare over the shoulder.

"Okay, look," Dimitri began as he shifted his weight. "I just want to…thank you. I guess. For…you know…"

Sinbad looked at his injured shoulder and snorted. "Yeah, well…it saved me a mess to clean."

A strained silence passed and Dimitri rocked back on his heels. "Right."

Sinbad cleared his throat. "Is that it?"

"Let me take a look at your shoulder," Dimitri offered with a sigh. "You might say that medicine's a little more advanced where I come from, maybe I can…help."

Sinbad huffed, gesturing to his injury with his free hand. "Well I was just going to stitch it up. What did _you_ have in mind?"

Dimitri blinked, looking down at the needle and twine he carried in a hand before folding his arms. "Okay, smart guy, but let me ask you this: how were you going to stitch up your _own_ shoulder one-handed?"

Sinbad awkwardly turned his head to try and get a full view of his wound and set his jaw petulantly when he couldn't. "How do I know you won't try and jam that needle in my jugular?"

"Would I make it off this ship alive if I did?"

Sinbad narrowed his eyes, slowly removing his bloody hand. "…Alright. Fine." He pointedly averted his gaze to a wall as Dimitri stepped over and loomed above him, studying the open gash. He told himself that it was because he was trying to make his wound more accessible, but deep down he was well aware that it was guilt that prevented him from meeting Dimitri's eyes. He supposed the stowaway wasn't as useless as previously suspected, and maybe he would have been just a little sharper and not in need of a rescue if he hadn't been run ragged. Was he being unreasonably harsh on the guy? He hated it when Kale was right—which was always. Sinbad grimaced as fingertips probed the edges of his torn skin. "Where'd you learn to do that, anyway? With the absinthe?"

Dimitri shrugged absently. "You pick things up when you're raised in a warzone. Seen a lot of riots. Hold still."

Sinbad resisted a stubborn comment about the nature of a prisoner giving orders before looking down to see a hand prying the bottle of rum from his grip. The questions caught in his throat as Dimitri poured some of it over the wound and he hissed in pain, jolting away. "Ah, _jeez_, what th—warn me, would you!"

"There. Worst part's over," Dimitri muttered almost wryly before threading the needle.

Sinbad's sneer melted into a grimace of dull pain as the needle pierced his skin. Alright, so maybe this would have been difficult to do on his own, but he wasn't about to sacrifice his pride by admitting it. Instead he tried to maintain the course of the conversation. "What war?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you and you wouldn't understand it if I explained it to you," Dimitri dismissed.

Sinbad shook his head. "Okay. So did you fight in this war?"

A frown. "Not exactly."

If Sinbad didn't know any better he'd say the man was being deliberately evasive. What would a man who's already crazy enough to claim to be from the future be afraid to admit? "I take it you didn't live the gilded life, then."

Dimitri paused before carefully beginning a new stitch. "Where I come from, if you aren't trying not to starve it's only because you're too busy trying not to freeze."

"Sounds…charming."

"Charming. Sure."

Sinbad sat in uncomfortable silence as Dimitri finished stitching his shoulder back together, unable to think of anything to say. There was no way he was about to apologize for his behavior, but at the same time he knew that he didn't like this arrangement between them anymore. Tormenting Dimitri was about as satisfying as pushing an old man down a flight of stairs. After all, it didn't take an omniscient god to see that Dimitri wasn't actually the one Sinbad was angry with. This self-assessment made him internally sigh.

"That should do it," Dimitri announced, nicking the twine with a nearby knife and tossing it aside.

Sinbad looked over to see the bleeding had more or less stopped, the sewn together skin discolored and raw, but it would heal. "Not bad," he remarked begrudgingly, his eyes finding Dimitri's blood covered hands. "For a kitchen boy."

"Yeah, well, I'm no surgeon," Dimitri grumbled. He wiped his brow and set the bottle of rum aside. "Anything else I can do for you, _Captain_?"

Sinbad noticed the slightly cheeky tone, but chose to ignore it this time. "No. Now like I said, get some sleep."

"Gladly." Dimitri nodded and turned away, nearly knocking into Kale as the larger man headed down the stairs.

"Oh," Kale mused, an intrigued expression forming. "Sorry."

"Don't mention it," Dimitri assured as he slid past him. Kale watched him go before turning back to Sinbad.

"What was that all about?" Kale asked suspiciously.

"Nothing."

"Come on, Sinbad, don't tell me you were chewing him out again. After he—"

"What? No!" Sinbad turned, but the quickness of the act pulled at his stitches and he winced back. "Ugh, what do you want, Kale?"

"Just seeing if I've been promoted to Captain yet," Kale said dryly, raising an eyebrow at the stitch work. "But it looks like you'll live through this one."

Sinbad snorted primly. "Guess you'll just have to pray a little harder next time."

"I figured with the number of gods you've upset I wouldn't have to." Kale rested a hand on a nearby surface and looked down at the bloody twine strewn across it. "I have to admit, Sinbad, he continues to surprise me."

"Who?"

Kale set a hand at his hip. "You know who I'm talking about."

Sinbad glanced at the stairs where Dimitri had vanished and grunted. "Him. Right."

Kale sighed. "It amazes me that after all this time you still think I don't get you. If you want to go on treating him like the whipping boy, go ahead, but it's not going to make you feel any better about Marina."

"Kale, I don't—" Sinbad snapped, but quickly got a hold of himself, drawing out a slow breath and gently placing a hand over his wounded shoulder. "…I _know_. Okay?"

"Good." Kale nodded. "So I guess all that's left to ask is: what are you going to do about it?"

Sinbad looked at his stitches and sighed.


End file.
